


Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked

by abracadabra_37



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: A few oc’s thrown in there for good measure, And are you gonna stop me?, Bandit!Ricky, Enemies to Lovers, Multi, Sheriff!Tinsley, This came to me in a haze at 2am one day, This town aint big enough for the two of us, barfight, gunfighting, no, old west au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28394871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abracadabra_37/pseuds/abracadabra_37
Summary: Sheriff Tinsley is doing just fine in his little portion of Southern California, just on the border of the New Mexico Territory. His nonexistent worries start to come in question when some of the wanted posters on his wall start coming alive in his county. He can put up a desperate fight to keep everything that he has, but what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?
Relationships: "Night Night" Bergara/"Legs" Madej, Francesca Norris/Original Female Character(s), Ricky Goldsworth & C.C. Tinsley, Ricky Goldsworth/C. C. Tinsley
Comments: 14
Kudos: 19





	1. Sweet Tea With a Side of Strangers

**Author's Note:**

> I suppose I must create the kind of content I would like to see. So here we are, welcome back everyone. Sorry that it’s a few days late (okay fine it’s three days late) but I will still be posting chapter 2 this Friday so don’t kill me. Also: title is a work in progress! Do not be surprised if I change it. Please enjoy.

Horseback riding. Of all the things that Tinsley had had to adjust to for his new life in the west, it was horseback riding that still always stuck out to him as off. As he plodded through the Sonoran Desert on Achilles, he wished he was in a coach or even better, a train. He’d only ever ridden one of the things once, on a vacation back home, but it was still one of his favorite forms of transportation. Very smooth.

He was headed towards home base, as he had just finished a routine checkup on some of the other towns in the county that he was in charge of. He would have to make another round soon for taxes. Supposedly there was to be a new resident arriving in town as well. He would have to ask Banjo more about it when he got there. 

Achilles continued to kick up dust on the trail as they passed yards and yards of sand and dirt. Joshua trees, as well as cacti and other local plants continued to pass them by as they made their way down the trail. Lizards, but gladly no snakes, sometimes even sat on the path, basking on rocks to absorb the heat of the day for a little while. They scurried away as Achilles stepped over them. After riding around for a couple days, Tinsley wanted nothing more than a nice shower and a nap. Mainly the nap. Clouds formed above, rain might be coming to this area soon if they were lucky. He was about 20 minutes out of town, Tinsley reminded himself.

He took a couple more swigs of his water, what was left of it at least. He’d refilled at the last Express station, what wasn’t being used by the riders or the maintenance men at the moment. He’d have to check up on the station closest to home pretty soon, but that could wait a little while. Tinsley really needed that break after riding throughout most of his day. The sun beat down on him in waves, heating his back in a fashion that could be considered uncomfortable at the very least.

Tinsley finally rode into town, and directed himself towards the station. It was a smaller town, only about 400 people. Buildings formed a couple streets that branched off the Main Street, which contained the station, the bank, Night’s bar, and a couple other businesses. Banjo was excitedly waving at him from the porch with a couple glasses of (hopefully cold) liquid. What, he couldn’t quite say yet.

“Hey Tinsley! Why don’t you tie Achilles down by the trough over there for a minute and come have a drink before you put him in the stable,” he called happily.

“What have you got for me today then, Banjo?” Tinsley exclaimed in return, dismounting his horse. His boots hit the ground with a thud, and a small cloud of dust had accumulated around his person, mainly from the particles that shifted off his clothing.

He tied Achilles to the side of the station.“Well this might just be my grandma talking, but I thought an iced sweet tea sounded just peachy for the occasion,” Banjo extended out a glass to Tinsley, tipping his hat.

“Thank you. Now, did anything happen while I was gone? Any news from towns? Express riders?” Tinsley immediately started questioning, not wanting to get caught up in any form of unnecessary conversation for the day. He did have duties to attend to, after all.

“Mr. Lewis’ daughter got a letter from her fiancé up in Sacramento, but that’s the only news from the outside.” He took a sip of his drink and suddenly remembered something. He swallowed quickly and added, “Oh, and that Golden Hour Gang has been stirring up trouble in the New Mexico Territory. Not where they usually do, a little bit west this time. They say he’s headed to California, but it’s anybody’s guess where they’re headed,” Banjo finished up his short report on local news while Tinsley was gone.

“And old man Lewis? He’s staying away from the bottle, right?”

“Yep, hasn’t set foot in Night’s place since he kicked ‘em out. But CC, did you hear my other piece of news? The one that might be of a little more concern to us?”

“You said it yourself. It’s anybody’s guess where they’re headed next. Maybe they just wanted to expand upon who they’re bullying this time. Everyone in the southern counties has a wanted poster of some of the members, they can’t just go by everywhere undetected. We’ll be fine,” Tinsley reassured.

Suddenly, a voice chimed from a little ways down the dirt road.

“Sheriff Tinsley! The coach just arrived!”

“I’ll be back in a minute, Banjo, I would like to greet our new residents.”

“Sure thing Tinsley! I’ll come with,” Banjo said, quickly following behind Tinsley. He had quite the task whenever he had to follow the tall Sheriff. He stood at a whopping 6’4” compared to the average resident. Banjo was a bit more of a short man, and his stout demeanor was also quite the contrast to Sheriff Tinsley’s gangly figure.

They struck as quite the odd pair as they walked down the street, to put it at the very least. The coach waited by the Newmann’s two story shared house. The passenger must be sharing that house, since old John had taken a trip to the graveyard in a long wooden box. At least he could join his wife and daughter on the top of the hill, underneath the Joshua Tree.

The coachmen were unloading two trunks that were currently tied to the top. More luggage with a sleek black cover, turned partially grey by dust from the journey, lay atop the stagecoach.

“Two passengers?” Banjo questioned as they approached the coach.

“Apparently,” Tinsley chimed back, continuing to step on ahead.

“Good afternoon gentlemen, I suppose you are my welcoming party,” a woman in a dark blue dress asked.

“Good afternoon Miss. I presume that you are our original passenger that was supposed to arrive,” Tinsley put bluntly, reaching out his hand for a handshake. She took it and Banjo quickly followed suit.

“Hello there, I’m Miss Holly Horsley from Pennsylvania. Nice to meet you two gents, but I didn’t catch any names.”

“Sheriff CC Tinsley, at your service.”

“Deputy Banjo McClintock, it’s nice to meet you Miss Horsley.”

“Well, thank you boys for welcoming me. I think these handy fellas have already got my luggage in my room, so I’ll be on my way. Goodbye.”

As Holly left to go to her room and presumably unpack, a gentle tap to the shoulder turned Tinsley around. A gentleman only a couple inches shorter than Tinsley awaited him. He was clearly not dressed for the West, and if Tinsley had to make an assumption, he was just passing through on the way to another, bigger city out here. His posh clothes didn’t really scream ‘small town that’s only getting smaller’. Maybe one of those booming ‘gold rush’ towns that were popping up north. His nice green vest and tie complimented his equally nice black shoes and pants. His coat, slung over his arm like a towel, was black to match the pants.

“Excuse me, I heard that you were the Sheriff?”

“Yes, I’m Sheriff Tinsley. How can I help you sir?”

“I’m the bank’s replacement for Gary Smith, but I do not currently have a place to stay. Know any good spots?” the man asked, not really seeming rude nor nice, just kind of… neutral. Even his very posture didn’t say anything special about him. 

“Well, replacement of Gary Smith, you’re standing in front of the best and one of the only rooming spots in town, The Rattlesnake. However, I would recommend getting on Night’s good side. And don’t complain about the noise until you lay down on one of the mattresses,” Tinsley calmly explained, gesturing towards said building.

“Thank you so much, I’ll be right back for my luggage.”

The man walked away back to the coach, but Tinsley and Banjo paid no attention to that. 

“I believe we have a sweet tea waiting down the street?” asked Tinsley jovially.

“I suppose we do, Sheriff.”

The two of them settled back on the porch, Tinsley still slightly dusty from his ride back over. Banjo started to sip at his glass, Tinsley taking a few swallows. Sweet tea was by far not his favorite beverage out there, but he didn’t have much of a sweet tooth for anything. The clouds that he’d seen rolled right over the town as they sat and drank. Tinsley decided to put a little extra something from his flask into his sweet tea as they watched the clouds pass by.

“Really it’s-“

“No, it’s after 2pm and I spent most of today riding around on a horse, I deserve a little bit,” Tinsley interrupted.

“Well, glad you’ve got all your checks done, Sheriff,” Banjo began, taking the last sip of his tea, “The rider from the closest express station checked in for the station today when they delivered the letter. Stan knows that you don’t really like heading out there after a whole weekend of riding around checking up on people and places.”

“Really? That’s kind of him to do. I’m gonna go swing by Night’s, check up on our newcomer, and get a drink later. Wanna join?”

“Nah, I have some journaling to do tonight. I gotta write it all down for Bella. Maybe I’ll even send a couple pages to her,” Banjo sighed, gazing off to a daydream. Tinsley decided to take the opportunity to start untying Achilles and take him back to the stable. He’d even go up to the small hayloft, that he barely fit in, to say hi to Achilles’ friend. It was a stray tomcat that liked to hang out up there, especially with Tinsley.

He made sure Achilles was comfortable before climbing the rickety ladder that he’d cobbled together once he discovered the unused space up there. He could still lay down, but his shoulders were a little squishy in the one corner and his knees to his toes zswung down into the space below. Pretty soon, a small black and white cat stepped onto his stomach.

“Hey buddy, what are we doing today? Terrorizing chickens? Lounging around in the sun? Getting terrorized by chickens?” Tinsley laughed, scratching the back of its head.

It laid down on his stomach, stretching out for a moment before curling back up to continue receiving scratches on the head. They sat in this position for an hour or so before Tinsley dozed off for a short nap. When he awoke again, the sunset painted the sky orange and pink, the shapes on the horizon turning into pliant shadows. All of the clouds that he’d seen earlier were gone, the hazy sun sitting just above the horizon, casting a lazy light over part of the land. The buildings cast large shadows on each other and the streets.

“Shit, I gotta go take a quick shower buddy,” Tinsley explained, feeling really bad about moving the sleeping cat. It did not stir, or wake up, by some miracle.

He went back around the officer’s quarters to take his short shower. Deputy McClintock had placed all the dry towels in the cabinet after laundry day, so Tinsley placed one outside the wooden stall door.

The water wasn’t really hot, but it wasn’t cool either. It was ‘in the desert sun for half the day before the shade hit it’ hot, like usual. He was down to his last bar of pine soap, maybe he’d pick more up over the summer if he had time to make the trip.

He dried off and got on a set of clean clothes before slipping on his black boots that were still dusty and yelling out to the nearly empty space in the station.

“I’m going over to Night’s place! Come with me or stay here, I don’t really care. I’m leaving now though!”

Banjo did not follow him, not this time. Tinsley pocketed his flask and proceeded to walk out the door and to his destination. The ambiance of the desert at night combined with the sounds of people as he got closer to the town hotspot. He passed a few already drunk town members making their way back to their own homes. Music came from the inside of the building, Lucy was probably on tonight. As he walked through the doors, the occupants on the stage proved him wrong. Lucy was standing by the bar. Night waved her off to go take more orders, not as irritated as he would usually look.

He made his way right over to the bar, taking a thankfully open barstool. He discovered that the stranger from earlier today was sitting just down the bar, and by the blush on his cheeks he’d had just one too many glasses of well, whatever it was he was drinking. 

“Lucy! We got another round for table 5!” Night yelled, gesturing to a tray of freshly filled glasses. He then walked up to Tinsley, grabbing a random bottle of whiskey on the way over.

“How may I poison your liver today, Sheriff? The deputy know you’re here? Ya know, just in case you have a hangover again,” he quipped, already looking for a glass.

“Okay, I’ll have you know that that was exactly once, and just three fingers to start off with, please.”

“Sure sure, but I got a question for you before I hand over the goods.”

“Go ahead and ask it,” Tinsley sighed, just wanting his drink.

Lucy used the mirror behind the liquor wall to check her beautifully curly hair, tucking the grey streak back into place and checking that her fake flower was still in place. She then grabbed the tray and sauntered off, her red ruffled skirt swaying as she walked.

“Finally, next time I say we got a round at a table please be at the bar in less than 4 minutes. We have paying customers that are paying for alcohol, not the right to complain to me about service! Thank you dear,” Night scolded, turning back to Tinsley, “Sorry about that, she’s been kind of spacey tonight. I’m sure it’s just her being petty about being on server duty. Anyways, did you send that newcomer over to my place? If so, thank you. He’s rich as a bank and thrice as nice. He’s paid twice the price on his last two drinks. I’m tempted to throw the limit out the window.”

“Well if you’re done scolding your employees, yes I did send him to the best joint in town. But, is the extra cash his wallet or the alcohol talking? Be careful not to get the guy dead drunk and/or in a bar fight please.”

“Fine,” he huffed, “I can promise to cut him off, but I will not comment on any violence that happens in this building unless it is against one of my employees, you know that,” Night smirked, dropping off the drink and moving back to the city boy. Lucy stopped him first, handing him two tickets with orders.

“Maria’s on serving tomorrow, right? Please tell me that I’m on stage duty again,” Lucy whined, clearly irritated by being demoted to server for the night.

“Once you learn your lesson, you may go back to your act. Until then, you’re stuck where you are sweetheart.”

“I still don’t see what I did wrong. The man got what was coming to him,” Lucy huffed.

Night clearly just wanted to get back to his other patrons at the bar, but he still commented, “Well  _ I  _ don’t think that you’re in the wrong here either. But sadly, seeing as how you punched an officer, one who happens to be a regular at that, my hands are tied. If I’m being honest, I think you should’ve beaten him until he was a red smear on my floors. But we will talk about this later, I have a bar to run.”

Apparently Banjo had  _ not  _ told him everything that happened while he was gone. He would have to get the story later from anyone who was willing to retell it, he supposed.

“Fine, bu-“ He cut her off by shoving a tray into her hands.

“Table 8,” Night muttered, walking off to the drunk customer sitting a chair away from Tinsley, so he was able to overhear most of their conversation as well, but he decided to tune it out, instead focusing on finishing his drink and leaving. Clearly everything here was fine here for now. He watched as the stranger attempted to stand up off his stool, stumbling and catching himself on the counter.

“Woah there Long Legs, maybe just sit here and try some water for a minute. If you can wait for like 30 minutes, I can help you walk where you need to go,” Night commented, a little concerned. He didn’t see too many people in his bar that did not know their limit. Tinsley was able to count on one hand the amount of times someone had gotten so intoxicated that they couldn’t stand up straight in the Rattlesnake without a friend in the bar to help them out on their way home. Or a hookup. 

Tinsley ordered a gin and tonic to watch some performances for the night. Maria sang a couple songs on the piano with her two coworkers. Emily even got her fiddle out for some dances where their skirts flared and spun out in all the ruffled layers. He decided to get up and leave before Night decided to close the place down for the evening. It was nearing half past midnight, and as Tinsley surveyed the room, there seemed to be plenty of happy customers. Long Legs, as Night had called him, had his head down on the bar and an empty water glass next to him.

Tinsley walked across the floor, surprisingly not getting stopped by anybody that night. He passed back out into the night, the music and people not blocking out the sounds of the desert the closer he got to the station. He heard a coyote howl somewhere out in the night. A cooler breeze even pleasantly rolled by as he walked down the street.

He sat out on the porch, watching the occasional passerby making their way back to where they were saying. Once he was sure that there wouldn’t be trouble for the night, at least trouble that couldn’t wait until morning. He extinguished the lamp that was outside, and the one on the table upstairs after he checked around the actual ‘police station’ part of the building. He flopped down on his bed, too tired and tipsy to care about his clothes.


	2. Encounter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tinsley heads down to the Express stop early the next morning to resolve an issue, and comes back with two dead bodies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Welcome back to my self indulgent au! Hope you enjoy this, happy new year everyone! Starting off 2021 with an update to a fanfic was not what I expected, but hey what should I expect at this point. Thank you to all my lovely readers!

Tinsley was working on his coffee early the next morning when a horse rode quickly and loudly down main. The blond rider was clearly distressed, searching for any sign of awake life in the town. He caught Tinsley out on the porch, quickly yelling out.

“Tinsley! Oh my god Tinsley it’s you thank god,” he breathed, “Get your horse, please, I’ve only time to explain on the way. Quickly please!”

Tinsley hurried to saddle up Achilles and ride off with the boy. They made their way through the desert quickly, Tinsley quickly realizing that the trail was to the Express station.

“Are you taking me to the Pony Express rest stop? What happened?” Tinsley hurriedly shouted at the other rider.

“I was taking the weekly supplies to Tom, but when I got there I saw more horses than should be there. Then I saw a group of people in his station, looked like bad business. They had a gun pointed at him, Sheriff,” the boy, who he now recognized as Peter, explained, keeping the quick pace towards the station.

“A group of them? Go back and see if you can get Banjo or another officer! I’ll try to hold ‘em off while I can,” Tinsley rode ahead on the trail, picking up the pace, reasoning that his horse could get rest and supplies at the station as long as he made it in time to save Tom.

Peter turned back, but Tinsley continued to fly by the landscape, the only thought in his brain being:  _ go.  _ A dust trail kicked up into the air, blurring the landscape even further. He approached the place within the next few minutes, and what do you know there were still a couple unfamiliar horses by the entrance, standing there. He jumped off Achilles, trying to assess the situation from outside the station. He could see a few people, before one of them noticed him.

“Ricky! Pretty sure we should dash, there’s a guy out front,” a female voice chimed.

“Let me take care of it, after I finish up here,” a man, presumably Ricky, murmured before two gunshots sounded off from inside the building. Tinsley decided to take the opportunity to dash in, seeing a group of people in the main room. Tom lay dead in his chair, one shot to the heart, one to the head.  _ Damnit.  _ Three bodies turned to face him, but they were clearly armed with at least a knife each.

“Sheriff Tinsley! Back away from the body and drop your weapons!” Tinsley shouted, pointing his pistol out into the room, keeping an eye on all four figures in the room.

A boy, who couldn’t have been older than 17, tried to make a run for it. The man in black standing in front of Tom’s body shot him before Tinsley could even try anything else. 

As he cried out and crumpled to the floor, gasping and choking, a voice filled the room, “Shut up and die more quietly please, some of us are trying to have a conversation.”

“Excuse me?” Tinsley asked, irritated, “He was just a boy, nothing more. He shouldn’t have had to die at all. Now turn around and put down the gun.”

“He asked for it, disloyalty comes at a price after all.”

“I’m gonna ask you one more time to shut up and drop the weapon, then turn around.”

Finally, the guy who he presumed to be Ricky turned around. His silky smooth voice rang through the room one more time, strangely soothing for a man who had killed two people in less than three minutes, one of whom Tinsley thought to be Ricky’s ally.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot, Sheriff Tinsley,” he began, putting his revolver down on the floor and his hands up, “You see, I’m not sure you know who I am, but try to arrest me and I’ll make sure you regret it. Leave now and I can guarantee your life. Make a move on me and I’ll give you a 50/50 chance. So, what have you gotta say to that deal?”

He had a pretty face to match the voice, at least, Tinsley thought. He quickly shook that kind of thinking off, diverting it with a quesiton, “What’s to say that I don’t just shoot you here and now, how would you feel about that, Ricky?”

“Ah, so either you overheard that outside the station or you actually do know who I am. I’m betting on the former, cause you got quite the pair saying that kind of stuff to my face. So what’s it gonna be?”

“Ric-“ the original woman protested quietly, almost whispering.

“Fran, Doc, get out of here. I’ll take care of it.”

The two went to leave, Ricky staring him down. Tinsley pointed his gun between the two warning them, “Try to leave and I’ll shoot you.”

“Let them leave, your fight is with me. You’ve no proof that either of them did anything here,” Ricky responded, his stare never wavering from Tinsley. He eventually reflected Ricky’s stare, the other individuals making their way right out the front door.

“Damnit,” Tinsley muttered under his breath.  _ I will not let this one go,  _ Tinsley thought, turning his gun to Ricky, taking some steps forward. Ricky was a bit more well dressed than he would assume your average criminal to be. He certainly had a thing for the color black, and gold. Even his pistol was engraved with a strange black design that Tinsley couldn’t quite designate yet.

His black boots, jeans, and shirt were topped off with a vest, mainly black but it was patterned with shiny gold snakes, stitched into the fabric with only thread, to match the drop Albert watch hanging from his pocket. A black gambler was perched on top of his head, a stripe of black leather with golden snake head and tail tied around where the brim met the body. He too had a healthy covering of dust on his clothes, most of it had probably been tapped off.

“Well?” Ricky questioned.

Tinsley approached him with the cuffs he pulled off his belt, “I choose option two.”

He kept his aim on Ricky as he approached, making sure to never take his eyes off the smaller man. Tinsley was a smart one, putting Ricky’s hands behind his back. Ricky realized this and started to panic, ruling out some of his options.

He realized that he still had a few while he stood in the room, gun pressed to his back. Tinsley circled around him after checking the restraints currently around Ricky’s wrists.

“A 50/50 chance of me even making it out, huh? You being nice to me or something Ricky? Cause I’m flattered. Let’s go.”

“And if I refuse?” Ricky questioned, his gaze never wavering.

“I may not look like it, but I could probably lift you up and carry you out of here like a damsel in distress, if you want to go with that route. Or would you rather keep your dignity, as an apparently ‘well known’ criminal?”

“Well I’m sorry to tell you this Sheriff, but my odds are never wrong.”

“Yeah, you’re in handcuffs, I have a gun, not sure how those odds are gonna work out in your favor here. Let’s get going. You have 5, 4, 3,-“

Ricky suddenly snapped into action, jumping over his hands so that they would be in the front. He landed low as Tinsley fired off a shot, then standing back up to kick the Sheriff in the stomach. Tinsley stumbled over to lean against the entryway. He tried to catch his breath as he scanned the room for Ricky, one of his arms still extended with a pistol at the end of it. Ricky appeared right by his side, smacking the gun right out of his hand with a smile.

“Hello again,” Ricky smirked. He had at some point pulled a knife out of his clothing. Probably a boot, seeing as how Ricky’s pockets were empty other than a wallet and a set of lock picks. He had also obtained his own pistol, it was in his holster.

Tinsley finally caught his breath again, sighing irritably. Ricky started to search for the keys to his cuffs in Tinsley’s pockets.

“Aha! Found ‘em,” Ricky joyfully exclaimed, unlocking the cuffs and handing them back to Tinsley, “I may be a thief but I think it’s best that you keep those. Don’t go arresting anyone anytime soon though. If you make an attempt to chase after me, however, I will make sure that there are three dead bodies at this scene.”

Tinsley just glared back, keeping his words in his mouth. Ricky snickered, cuffs still in hand, going to find an old pipe in the living room that stuck out from the wall just enough.

He slipped the cuffs around the pipe, then dragged Tinsley over to the metal.

“You can sit or stand, not much of an issue with me.”

Tinsley continued to stand and stare as Ricky placed his wrists in his own handcuffs. Ricky pulled out his knife again, placing the blade against Tinsley’s throat. It nicked his skin and threatened to do much more than that.

“Oh, and if you ever try to threaten me with a weapon again, I’ll leave you for dead in a ditch. Your blood will stain the sand beneath my feet red,” he whispered in Tinsley’s ear, his smooth voice turned deadly before picking back up, “Bye bye, Sheriff. Have a nice day.”

He tipped his hat on his way out, and seconds later he heard a single horse leave the station. His keys were on the floor a room away, and Ricky had taken his lock picks back. He left the wallet, which Tinsley had suspected was actually Tom’s when he looked at the contents.

He waited for about five more minutes before he heard two horses approaching the station. Two people dismounted and approached the house with caution, probably seeing Tinsley’s horse still waiting outside.

“Tinsley?” Banjo loudly asked the house, his voice going unanswered for a few moments.

“In here! Grab my keys from the entry please,” Tinsley spoke after Banjo.

He heard the jingle of keys, and the gasp of Banjo as he discovered the body of Tom Smith. He discovered Tinsley and sighed in relief that there was no blood on the Sheriff other than the couple drops that had come from a nick on his throat.

“Tinsley, what happened here? I thought you had the morning watch today,” Banjo softly asked, unlocking the cuffs and handing them back to Tinsley.

“Thank you Banjo. We’ll have to send the word out to the Express. They’ve lost a keeper. Us, on the other hand, we have to watch out for three new wanted criminals in our area. I’ll start on some profiles with you when we get back. Peter, go get a blanket. Make it two, actually,” Tinsley started rambling, waving Peter off to find blankets.

“Tinsley. What happened here?” Banjo asked again, more slowly. He reached out to touch Tinsley’s arm, but he stepped away.

“Well, two people are dead, not a bandit in sight, I was cuffed to a pipe. What do you think happened?”

“I have no clue, so you better explain it to me,” Banjo rolled his eyes, sick of Tinsley’s attitude.

Tinsley sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and removing his own hat for a few moments, “Well, I came to the scene, and there were four bandits discussing something, I don’t know what, with Tom. One of them saw me, so another shot Tom. I tried to arrest them, but one tried to make a run for it. The same one who killed Tom shot him, then proceeded to send the two others off. We had a rather unpleasant encounter after that. Is that enough to paint the picture for you?”

“Got those blankets.”

“Great, now help me get these bodies onto horses so we can take them back into town. Pretty sure Samuel will be happy to see these two,” Tinsley clapped his hands together.

They laid the blankets out whatever part of the horse the various parts of the saddle wouldn’t cover. They heaved the bodies onto their horses, Peter standing back.

“Someone’s gonna need to stay here, right?” Peter asked, “In case any riders come by on their route.”

“Yeah Peter, could you do that? Just for a few hours, of course, until we can send an adult out,” Banjo asked, adding, “And Tom did keep a rifle here, in the second cabinet next to the wood stove. If anything, and I mean  _ anything _ suspicious happens, you pull that out and don’t let go of it until either the threat is gone or you’ve taken care of it. You hear me?”

“Yes sir,” Peter nodded.

“I’ll let your dad know where you are, tell him you’ll be home by sunset, all that stuff. See you back in town, kid,” Tinsley waved his hand, walking out the door.

Banjo and him rode out back to town, stopping by the morgue at the cemetery. Samuel greeted them, even stepping out into the sun, “Hello boys. I suppose you have something, or rather someone, for me to take off your hands.”

“Two somethings, actually,” Tinsley corrected, pulling the boy off his horse.

“Tom has a plot next to his father, the John Doe doesn’t,” Banjo further explained.

“Well we don’t have all day, get them on the table before things start to get smelly,” Samuel sighed, gesturing for Tinsley to carry his inside. Banjo scrambled to get Tom off the back of his horse.

After they’d dropped off the bodies, they walked Achilles and Cookie back to the station, dropping them in the stables. Banjo desaddled Cookie, but Tinsley left Achilles ready to go. He was going to try and search for the culprits once he got some supplies for lunch and possibly dinner, as well as a canteen of water.

“So do you know who did it? Want to check if we have any sort of record of anybody like whoever did it? Catch any names?” Banjo rattled off the basic questions as Tinsley started buttering up some day old biscuits to have for lunch.

“One of them is named Ricky, dresses in all black. His associates had their masks pulled up. One of them is definitely female, but I have no clue about the other one. And he shot the boy, but I’m assuming that the boy was a new addition,” Banjo had stopped in his tracks around the station, mouth hanging open for a second before he closed it. He waited for Tinsley to finish up speaking before he asked his own set of rapid fire questions.

“This Ricky guy, what did he look like? Did he carry an engraved pistol? Any gold on him?”

“Woah, calm down Banjo. I’m sure it’s fine.”

“No, answer the questions Tinsley,” Banjo insisted.

Tinsley rolled his eyes, “Fine, he’s about 5’9, Asian or Latino, curly black hair and dark brown eyes. Carried an engraved pistol and wore gold on the vest and hat he was wearing.”

Banjo suddenly grabbed his hand and muttered, “I told you so, I told you  _ yesterday _ that something like this could happen. You’re gonna want to desaddle Achilles after I show you this.”

“What do you mean Banjo, who is he?” Tinsley asked, stumbling a little as Banjo continued to drag him past the holding cells and onto a little bulletin board that they kept at the back of the station.

“Well, Sheriff, I told you that I heard the Golden Hour gang was kicking up dust in the New Mexico Territory yesterday, did I not? Guess who you just ran into,” Banjo said gesturing towards the board, “Yeah, Tricky Ricky. You ran into the infamous leader of the Golden Hour Gang and made it out alive. Now he’s either holding up in the general vicinity of, or even  _ in _ this county. Might even be headed here.”

“Slow down there, Banjo. Take a breath. Why would Ricky come here?” Tinsley asked, more confused than anything at that point.  _ If that really was ‘Tricky Ricky’, why would he spare him? The guy didn’t really have a huge measure of sympathy for law enforcement. _

“I don’t know! I told you that he was heading over west, and that’s the last news I got of him! What are you going to do?”

“Just because we know the name of the criminal doesn’t mean that my plan will be changing. I’m going to find where he’s set up. Scout out the location. Then bring a force out and arrest the bastard,” Tinsley explained, packing a few more items in his bag. He threw in a map of the New Mexico ranger stations, just in case he did end up crossing the border into the territory.

“Tinsley, with respect, that’s the most horrible idea you’ve ever had. Do you even know what this guy does? You should appreciate the save while you have it, prepare for if he decides to make a move on the town. People are gonna need a Sheriff if he shows face. Send me out instead. Cookie and I can make a 20 mile perimeter check around the town and the station. We’ll take some rangers and make it in like a half a week,” Banjo explained his own plan, going to grab his own pack.

“Fine, I suppose that you have a valid point. But I don’t want to add anybody else to the dead list. If something starts going wrong in anybody’s route, come back. All of you. Have check up points. Be smart.”

Tinsley went back out with Banjo, handing him some additional equipment and helping him load Cookie’s saddlebag, taking off Achilles’ saddle in the process. He bid Banjo and his helpers away, solidifying their plan in the station just in case anything happened. Then he started his journey to find Peter a replacement, which took about an hour. Apparently nobody could stop working for longer than three days, which was understandable. He eventually ended up at the house where he watched Holly move in yesterday.

“Hello again Sheriff, how can I help you today,” she answered the door gleefully.

“Just looking for someone,” Tinsley began, “Oh, not a criminal or anything, just someone who can watch the Express stop for a few days until they can send someone down from California or even someone from the East Coast, but the latter probably won’t be the endgame. They like to replenish the stations relatively quickly.”

“Sounds like something I can do. I work from home anyways, but I do not have a horse,” Holly smiled, inviting Tinsley inside with a hand.

“Are you sure you can do it? I mean you’re not exactly the type of gal I would call-“

“Anybody else signing up? I didn’t think so. Now let me do my duty. I can shoot a gun, cook a meal, and take care of horses. Give me the supplies, and I can do it,” Holly deadpanned, grabbing a rucksack and stuffing some clothes in it, forgoing skirts for a couple pairs of jeans and slacks. She threw in a couple more various items that were stashed around the room, including a pistol and bullets to reload it.

“Let’s go then, you can take Samuel’s horse. He owes me one,” Tinsley explained, dragging her over to the morgue. They approached the old stone building quickly, Tinsley saddling up and sending Holly off within the half hour.

He scribbled a note down on Samuel’s notepad at the front of the office and stalked back off to the station to think. He should send off letters to some of the other local towns to let them know what’s going on and why he might not make rounds or visits for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for tuning in. Leave a kudos or comment if you’re interested in seeing more or if you just want to make my day :).


	3. Tinsley’s Golden Ticket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tinsley goes about his day with a suspicious presence hanging over him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late I had a run in with corona so I had to go get a test so that I can go back to my classes next week lol. Hope y’all enjoy, this is the product of my declining mental health as I write. Have fun dear readers!

So far it had been a week since Banjo had left. Tinsley was starting to get a little concerned, but it was probably just him being silly. Banjo would be fine, they outlined a  _ very clear  _ plan for him and his volunteers to enact the second they spotted or suspected anything. The Express had sent a new keeper for the station down, and Tom was six feet under in the dirt.

The John Doe had also been buried, but there wasn’t much of a fanfare at his funeral. It was almost sad, the way he died. Betrayed by his friends, buried as a pauper when for all Tinsley could’ve known he was Tricky Ricky’s second in command. Now he lay in an unmarked grave, no honor, no mourners, not even a funeral. But he didn’t reflect on that. Right now, he was doing a visit at the Lewis’. Joann Lewis was Sacramento bound in a couple days, going up to meet her fiancé, who had made a small life for them off of being a chef for a small restaurant that popped up a few months ago.

Old man Lewis was finally off liquor, after getting banned from the Rattlesnake, and getting put in a holding cell for the night one too many times.

“Glad to know that you two are doing okay. Thank you for letting me stop by,” he smiled, tipping his hat at the two of them.

He walked out of their door and onto the street, Night running into him, “Oh, sorry Sheriff. Just on my way to pick up some bourbon that got dropped off earlier this morning.”

“Nice, let me know how that goes later,” he patted Night on the shoulder, noticing a quickly approaching figure from down the street.

He abandoned Night to pursue the figure. It was Banjo, but he was dragging a figure along with him.

“Banjo, who’s this?”

“This,” Banjo dragged the man along, “Is our ticket to Tricky Ricky’s camp.”

Tinsley stuttered for a minute, taking in the man in front of him. He didn’t look like one of the Golden Hour Gang. Messy grey hair was swept back into a messy bun, secured with a golden pin. A few stray pieces were knocked loose from putting up a fight against Banjo. He was definitely older, wrinkles adorning his very lightly tanned skin. Little scars flecked over his arms and hands, ones that only big sparks could cause. Piercing grey eyes bored into Tinsley’s soul, but a look as calm as aloe on a sunburn lay across his face.

“Okay, and why did you bring him to me? He needs to be in the station, did you search him?” Tinsley started rapid firing questions at Banjo, wanting to get information out of the both of them as soon as he possibly could.

“Well we were on our way when I realized that you were out and I didn’t want to leave a prisoner like this unattended. I did search him, I’ll show you what I picked off this guy when we get back to the station,” Banjo diligently explained, the steely eyed man continuing to silently stare.

They quickly set a pace towards the station, dragging along the third person. He obviously was tired and did not want to be there, his shoulders hunched. It didn’t do much for him in terms of ‘hiding’ seeing as how he was a couple inches taller than Tinsley.

A man in a red shirt flew past them, knocking into Banjo and almost falling over. He continued to brush by the prisoner, also messing up the tall man’s balance.

“Sorry,” the man shouted, continuing to run down the street, “Got someplace to be!”

“Watch it next time, short stack!” Tinsley yelled back, catching Banjo by the wrist before he tripped. The criminal had already gotten himself righted, brushing off his clothes where the man knocked into him.

“You okay?” Tinsley asked, the criminal nodding. He honestly looked like he was going to break his resolve, a glimmer of almost laughter in his eyes.

The man’s voice was oddly familiar, but he brushed it off quickly. He was bound to recognize the voices of the residents that he heard speaking every day.

They dropped their prisoner off in a cell, Banjo taking Tinsley to the side for a moment. “This bag is what I got off him, you can look through it while I go watch him.”

“Thanks Banjo,” Tinsley muttered, already reaching for the bag as the deputy walked out to the cells.

What was in the bag really only confirmed what Banjo was saying about him being a member of the Golden Hour Gang. He had a map, unmarked, of Southern California. A logo of a sun and a snake lay on the corner of the paper. Various bills, both Mexican and American, as well as coins. Firestarters, a couple strands of tattered ribbon, bullets, and some different snack foods also lay in the backpack. A hefty rifle lay next to the bag, a Sharps Model 1859. There was an etching into the butt of the rifle, an owl perched on a cactus. It was simple, but it seemed that the Golden Hour Gang had a thing for etchings on their weaponry. A small folding knife was placed in a pocket in the bag.

He reached down to the bottom of the bag, pulling out a roll of leather. Half a cartographer’s kit. _ Interesting. _ Tinsley walked back out to the cells, dismissing Banjo for the moment.

“So, Mr. Anonymous, what brings you into town?” Tinsley questioned from the other side of the bars, sitting down on a bench.

“No particular business, just here for some groceries.” 

Tinsley was slightly surprised, the man had a tinge of a southern accent. Mostly lost to time and immersion, but still there. “Yes, I suppose even criminals have to eat. Well, what’s your name? I’m-“

“Tinsley. Sheriff Tinsley. Ricky wouldn’t shut up about you when he got back from the station. Said that you had a lot of audacity when speaking to him. The name’s Mayor to you,” Mayor interrupted.

“Well, Mayor. A man like Ricky doesn’t need any sort of respect unless he proves himself worthy of it,” Tinsley spat, “Now I’ll ask you again, why are y’all here?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” the Mayor responded bitterly.

“Fine, we’ll try something else. Answer my questions, and I won’t keep you here. You’ll be free to go back if you wish to.”

The man’s eyes quirked up, eyebrows raised in interest.

“You like that deal?”

“Sure do. No hanging involved.”

“Well, where is your current camp located?”

“Take the first left out of town, a right at the 7th cactus, and run straight down the hill directly to hell,” the prisoner laughed, “I’m old, Sheriff. Not much to live for. Try again another day, if I’m even alive.”

“Looks like it might be the gallows for you after all, ‘Mayor’,” Tinsley replied, tapping his empty sheet of paper, “So I gotta ask, what’s with the owl? That your thing? Ricky’s is a snake, right?”

“Just an inside joke,” Mayor withheld a full response, only answering Tinsley’s further attempts at questioning with clipped short responses.

Tinsley called Banjo back to keep an eye on Mayor while he went to go on some other errands around town. They needed some supplies and he needed to check up on some things.

“Need anything from the general store? For dinners this week?”

“I’m making biscuits and gravy for breakfast tomorrow, maybe stop by the butchers please.”

“Alright, I’ll be back in a couple hours,” Tinsley said, “I need a break from that bastard. Maybe try to get some answers out of him. He won’t speak to me.”

“Well, you do come off as aggressive sometimes,” Banjo quipped, watching Tinsley walk out the door. He shrugged the tense Sheriff off, taking a bite of his sandwich instead.

-

Tinsley walked into the Rattlesnake, forgoing grocery shopping until after he had gone and gotten a little lunch and a drink to smooth over his mood for the afternoon.

He threw open the doors, walking right up to the empty bar seating and plopping himself down. A few other patrons sat in the bar, eating their own meal or drinking. He took off his hat, tapping off some of the dust.

“Hey Night, anything new?”

“No, but clearly there’s something new with you? What’s up?” Night slid over to Tinsley’s side of the bar, cleaning off a couple glasses while he talked to Tinsley.

“Just an irksome interviewee, nothing too big,” Tinsley clipped.

“Well, I won’t ask then. What can I do for you today?”

“Can I just get some steak and hash browns? Orange juice will be fine, I don’t want to drink anything right now,” Tinsley asked.

“Sure thing pal,” Night replied, bending over to grab a larger glass for the juice. As he did so, Tinsley suddenly noticed a purple spot peeking out above Night’s white collar. Mostly hidden by his shirt, completely hidden when Night stands, he still saw it as Night reached for a glass.

He didn’t know what possessed him to say this, but the next words to come out of his mouth were “So how’s Legs been?”

Night almost hit his head on the counter on the way up, “I’m sorry, will you repeat that?”

“So how’s your guest been? Heard you call him ‘Legs’ the other night, so I just assumed that that was what he liked to be called,” Tinsley explained, internally smirking. His suspicions had been confirmed.

“Oh, yeah, the accountant. He bought a property today, wouldn’t you know. He’ll be out of the Rattlesnake by Thursday,” Night explained, remaining equally cool.

“Well how’s he been? Does he like being here? You seem to like him being here plenty.”

“He doesn’t like the heat, that’s for sure. But he seems to be settling in fine. And no, I don’t like him better than any of my other well paying customers,” Night declared.

“Really? Well ask him to aim a little lower next time,” Tinsley teased, making sure to make the last part quiet.

“Shut up,” Night hissed, walking off to the kitchen to hand off a ticket and grab other customer’s orders.

Tinsley wanted to laugh so badly, but he restrained himself. He wanted to laugh even more when Legs himself walked into the bar with a huge smile on his face.

“Hey there Night! How’s your afternoon been,” he asked as he walked in.

“I’m alright Legs, how are those new boots fitting?”

“They fit pretty well. A little pinchy at the toes, but other than that they’re wonderful,” Legs grinned, sitting down at the bar a couple seats away from Tinsley.

“Just wear them out for a couple weeks, then they’ll be broken in,” Night chuckled, bringing back a few empty plates and plopping them in the sink, as well as a few plates. He left to go take care of some tables after placing a ticket for Legs on the door.

Tinsley got his plate a couple minutes later, shoveling the greasy food into his mouth. Skipping breakfast that morning had done something to him, and it was not a good thing. The cheap steak and potatoes tasted better than anything at that moment, and the orange juice wasn’t bad either. He would’ve much rather had something stronger, but he didn’t need to lose his temper if the prisoner were to irk him further.

After he finished, he left his due on the table and left the place to go on his various other errands around town.

He visited the Morgan, left a note for John Turner from Mr. Morgan, and saw Ms. Lewis off to Sacramento early. Then he stopped by the general store for butter and jam, deciding to pick up some jarred peaches as well. He stopped by the butcher for Banjo too, getting stopped by a couple people who needed his help with various other tasks. Someone’s chicken had gotten out, then a cat had been found with a name but no address tied around its neck, someone owed a debt they weren’t paying until the police got involved.

Tinsley noticed the man in the red shirt around a few areas that he was in, always far enough away that he couldn’t see his face. Like a ghost that could touch people. The brim of his black hat didn’t help Tinsley identify the person either.

He returned to the station, shouting Banjo’s name. “Banjo! ‘M back! Hope pork sausage is okay, they didn’t have anything else.”

There was no response, so he dropped the bags on the second floor kitchen. They lived only on the second floor, only letting snacks wander their way down to the station below. He walked back down into the station, noting that the bag from Mayor was gone. As well as the rifle.  _ Shit, this better not be Banjo’s idea of a joke. _

“Banjo!” He shouted one more time, then he walked out to the cells. Banjo was laying on the floor, passed out with a gash on his forehead. Nothing that looked like it needed stitches, at least. Tinsley went to grab their first aid kit and waited for Banjo to regain consciousness, tapping him on the shoulder to speed the process along.

“Tinsley? Sorry he got away,” Banjo groggily muttered trying to pick himself up.

“No problem, just wanted to ask you; how’d he do it?”

“Well he got his hands on something to pick the lock, and it wasn’t his pin, that wouldn’t do the job. He got out of the cuffs but I didn’t know that. So he taunted me to get close to the bars, then slammed my head into them and took the keys. Don’t remember much after that,” Banjo explained as Tinsley wiped off his head and placed a bandage over the wound, wrapping it and placing Banjo’s hat back on his head. He flicked the brim up a little, Banjo settling it back down on his head tightly.

“All better, now go rest for a minute. Make sure that you’re alright, and I’ll go around town and look for him for a few hours.”

The sun had begun to settle on the horizon, painting the desert a dusty pink while Tinsley rode across town and out into the desert a little bit. He got quite far before the sun dipped a little too low below the horizon. It was dark, the stars in the sky twinkling above him on a crystal clear night. He carefully made his way back into town, sure that he had just lost the man. He dropped Achilles off at the stable but went to run another errand when he saw a man, presumably ‘red shirt’ following him.

Tinsley ducked into an alley a couple buildings away from the Rattlesnake, an alley that he knew had a back. Someone already awaited him in the alley, smoking a cigarette. Ricky tipped up his head, his face peeking out from under his typical hat. A red shirt stuck up out of a bag by his side, the tattered clothing ditched for his usual outfit.

“Finally. I’ve seen you in the shadows all day you know, you aren’t very slick,” Tinsley huffed, wanting to stomp out Ricky’s cigarette. Or maybe just stomp on him, Tinsley was no longer certain.

“Who said I wanted to be sneaky?”

“Very funny. Now put that out and raise your arms above your head.”

Ricky chuckled, “Yeah, I’m gonna have to decline. Just trying to have a cigarette here. You’re the one who interrupted me, after all. Why are you arresting me?”

“Because you’re on a wanted poster on my wall. I’d like to free up that space, ya know? It makes me feel better about the crime rate,” Tinsley muttered, not letting his gaze waver from Ricky.

Ricky walked forwards, cigarette still in hand. He lightly blew the smoke at Tinsley as he responded, “Just smoking. So no.”

He dropped the cigarette and suddenly swung into action, taking Tinsley’s gun for himself after a swift kick to Tinsley’s wrist sent the gun up in the air.

“Bang.”

“Fine then, no arrest,” Tinsley conceded, now without his major and fastest weapon. He could go for the pocket knife that lay in his right pocket, but Ricky could shoot him by the time he got his fingertips in his pockets, “Why are you here?”

“Just a matter of business, of course. I’ll be out of your hair soon enough. Sad that you made me waste a cigarette to tell you that though.”

“Like that reassures me,” Tinsley laughed, scratching his chin. He noted that his stubble was starting to become something of a beard. He would have Banjo trim it tomorrow.

“No harm will come to this sorry sack of a town, as I said; I’m on business.”

“Whatever, just hand the gun back over and I’ll be on my way,” Tinsley sighed, clearly recognizing his loss in this situation. He gravitated towards the end of the alley, only to see some figures greet him.

Two people entered the alleyway. One of them must’ve been the one to follow him, to block him in completely, backing him up into a conversation with Ricky again. The girl went to toss something to Ricky. He allowed the girl passage, noticing something strange about her. She was the girl from the-

“You’re the girl from the station!” He raised his finger at the both of them. 

“Ah, unfortunately you are one of the smart ones. Or the dumb ones, I can never tell until the end,” he paused, Tinsley trying to open his mouth to say something, “Shhh. What was I saying? Oh, yes, if you’re so concerned about us causing your little area problems in our order of business, then you can come with us.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Tinsley began to mull over the idea in his head. There were definitely pros and cons. Biggest pro would be prevention of crime along their way, but biggest con is… “And what promise do I have that you won’t kill me and hurt the people I swore to protect with my life?”

Ricky pushed off the wall, taking a few steps towards Tinsley. He stopped in front of him for a minute, and Tinsley tried to open his mouth to speak again, but Ricky quickly shut him up with a long press of his lips on Tinsley’s. Pulling him down by his coat, he finally released the fabric after a solid few seconds.

“Sealed with a kiss, Scout’s honor, whatever you want to go with,” Ricky sighed, “It’s done.”

Tinsley stood there dumbfounded for a minute, his brain still processing the fact that his lips touched  _ Ricky’s _ .  _ Not bad, ask for another,  _ he immediately thought when his logical thought process stepped back in with a swift ‘ _ what the fuck, CC?’. _

The girl looked just as surprised as Tinsley, Ricky looking smug for a moment, “Well we’re leaving tomorrow at dawn. With or without you.”

“Make it eight and you’ve got a deal, Ricky.”

Now it was Ricky’s turn to look a little surprised, not expecting Tinsley’s response to sound so certain. A flicker of his shock rippled through his face before his smug persona came back to fruition, “Seven forty five. Have a lovely evening detective, and I suppose I will be seeing you tomorrow.”

The two left Tinsley standing in the alleyway, dumbstruck by his own stupidity. His brain asked him again,  _ what the fuck, CC. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you for tuning in, leave a kudos or comment for questions and if you enjoyed. Love y’all, thanks for always knocking it out of the park. Makes me happy to see that you guys are reading.


	4. We Have a Greater Proficiency for Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tinsley spends his day getting to know his new travel companions, if he can resist the urge to arrest them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for a two week hiatus. School was really not gonna be very cool to me so I had to bust a move and drop all of my worldly joys for a hot second. I will be back on my regular posting schedule from now on, I got some chapters ahead so I will be continuing with chapter 6 this Friday, as well as posting chapter 5 tonight or tomorrow. But I’m back now! So, as always, enjoy!

Tinsley woke up while the sky outside his window was still dark, just starting to gain a tinge of lighter blue.  _ I can sleep in for a few more hours, then the sun will be rising. If Ricky doesn’t like it, he’ll learn to. Or he will leave. Both are good. _

He stirred slightly when the sun hit his face a few hours later, but continued to flip over to check his clock. Maybe he could get a few more hours of blessed sleep. What met him instead was another face, a blearily familiar one.

He launched up out of bed and fumbled to find his gun on his dresser. It was gone. He put a hand to the bridge of his nose and pinched, scrunching his eyes. Tinsley sighed as he turned around and addressed the fully dressed Ricky laying on top of his covers, on his side so that he could watch Tinsley.

“Hello Ricky.”

“Good morning Sheriff,” Ricky greeted, standing up off the bed, “You should really put this in a more secretive area, you know,” he tossed Tinsley’s gun back onto Tinsley’s bed, sheets still rumpled from Tinsley’s sudden awakening.

“Please tell me why you’re here,” Tinsley tiredly questioned, looking at the clock.  _ Big hand on the 10, little hand on the 6. He’s early. It’s too early. _

“I like to watch people sleep,” Ricky joked, “You’re a really peaceful sleeper, by the way.”

Tinsley looked disgusted until Ricky chimed back in, “I’m kidding, geez you have a stick up your ass. Mayor left something back here yesterday on accident and I came back to retrieve it for him.”

“So why were you in my room? As far as I can tell, I do not sleep in the cell area.”

“Couldn’t resist. Your reaction was amusing, to put it at the very least,” Ricky chuckled, “But it’ll be our secret, promise.”

“You seem to keep a lot of secrets,” Tinsley sneered, sauntering off to find a pair of pants in his wardrobe. He didn’t feel like boxers were the proper pants to have a conversation with a criminal in.

“I do, but don’t forget that two of ‘em are yours,” Ricky winked, picking his hat up off Tinsley’s reading chair, flicking a little bit of dust off it, “I’ll leave you to your business now, farewell.”

He whistled as he walked out of Tinsley’s room, not bothering to shut the door. Thankfully Banjo was a heavy sleeper, or Tinsley would be screwed. He could tell that Banjo wasn’t the type to endorse a random man, or any man, leaving Tinsley’s room in the early morning whistling as he walked.

Tinsley sighed again and flopped back on his bed for a moment, avoiding his gun.  _ What did I ever do to deserve this. _ After a few minutes laying there, he sat up and picked out a plain white shirt and his tan coat, adding it to his ensemble. He pulled his bag out of his bottom drawer and threw some extra piece of clothing into his messenger bag. Especially socks. His sleeping roll, as well as his other few supplies were in his bag already. He pulled his boots on, sauntered downstairs, and filled his water canteen.

He folded a notebook open to an empty page and scribbled Banjo a quick note, tearing the page off and sticking it into the wall with a knife. He picked up his bag and walked out of the department building, making sure to pick his tan hat off the rack to match his coat.

The holster on his thigh rested uncomfortably with the messenger bag pressing against it, so he was glad to hook the strap around a post while he saddled up Achilles. After Achilles was ready to go, he strapped his bag in and swung himself up, taking the horse at a steady pace out of town. In the orange light of the early morning, he could spot a group of horses waiting for him at the entrance to town.

“Hey Sheriff!” Ricky waved him over.

“Please shut up Ricky,” another lady chimed, “It’s too early for this.”

“Nope,” Ricky smiled, continuing to watch Tinsley as he approached.

“I’m here to follow you and make sure that my county is safe without losing my life, thank you very much.”

“Well there’s no need to be rude, Tinsley,” Ricky mused, “We’ve been nothing but hospitable.”

“Well then who are all your lovely friends?” Tinsley sarcastically tipped his hat.

“‘M Doc, not to be confused with Doc Holliday. Just Doc,” the voice from earlier chimed.

The woman from the station and the alleyway introduced herself as Fran, Mayor continuing to glare at him with his icy stare.

“Mayor, be polite. I’m Ricky, as you know. You will address us as nothing else unless we inform you to do so, and anybody else that you meet through the course of your experience is a lackey. So don’t bother with names,” Ricky chimed back into the conversation.

“Fine,” Tinsley curtly expressed, “Let’s get a move on, shall we?”

Ricky beamed at him with a smile that he deemed criminally unfair for a man like Ricky to have. It set off something in his mind, something that he’d never felt before.

They moved along a trail dictated by the Mayor, not a single map in sight. The people around him joked and bantered as if Tinsley wasn’t actually there. And he wasn’t, for the most part. 

He was fine about being left out of a conversation that didn’t particularly involve him at all, much less to converse with a band of known criminals.

So he spent hours observing the scenery. There were plenty of green grasses and cacti, Tinsley even managed to spot a few owls nests in the larger cacti they passed. Lizards scurried across the rocks in the blazing heat, too intense for other animals hidden away in their homes. The sky was shockingly blue that day, not a singular cloud in sight.

The beige sand clashed against the greenery, and the purple mountains painted across the horizon that they headed away from. He never liked finding a space to sleep in the expansive area, always one thing wrong or another. But it was worth it for the noises at night, or the sky, and the peace of being alone in nature.

That did unsettle most people away from life in the west, but not Tinsley. He wasn’t afraid of being alone, he found it quite relaxing to find oneself alone in the desert, only a horse and a pistol for company. The dangers of the west became irrelevant at that point. No snake, scorpion, coyote, or hardship would stop him from making the exact same choice he had almost fifteen years ago. He was enjoying the peace of his new lifestyle. Sure, it could get a little crazy sometimes, but he felt like he finally fit into a puzzle for once in his life, and it was nice to be wanted in a community..

And he enjoyed his peaceful observance of the desert, until Doc asked him a question.

“So what do you think, Tinsley?”

“Haven’t been paying attention, what’s the question?”

“Ricky here hates riding in the rain, but Mayor and I think it’s better than riding in heat like this,” she smiled kindly, “Fran doesn’t have an opinion, and Ricky wants to tie it up so he’s not the host of an unpopular opinion.”

Ricky cut into the conversation, giving Mia a joking glare, “Woah whoah, I said I don’t like the smell of wet horse and wet clothes. You really think that that combination is worth a little bit of water from the sky to ride in?”

“Compared to this heat? Absolutely!” Mayor defended Mia, clearly uncomfortable in the unfiltered sun today.

“Well I suppose Ricky does make a fair point. I do not like it when Achilles is wet for anything but a quick bath. And it takes forever for your clothes to dry by the fire or the hearth. And don’t even get me started on when water gets inside your boots,” Tinsley began, “But I do miss cold temperatures every once in a while.”

“See?” Ricky taunted, “You got any of those apples left? I’m ready for lunch.”

“So do we need to find a place to stop?” Tinsley questioned, seeing Mayor rifle through a small pouch in his pack and producing a bright red fruit, tossing it to Ricky.

“Don’t feel like it today,” Fran chimed, “But then again, when do we feel like stopping to eat anything but dinner?”

Her friends chuckled at this statement, Mia adding “We don’t usually have similar lunchtimes anyway. Ricky considers an apple at noon and some crackers some time after to be an acceptable lunch. Fran likes jam sandwiches half past 1.”

“Interesting that you have that memorized,” Tinsley laughed. It was odd, to put it at the least. But if he spent most of his days on the road with three other people, he would probably also pick up on things like that.

Mayor pulled out his compass again, checking their direction and slightly directing their course to the left.

“We should make it to ‘broken arm butte’ before sunset to set up camp for the night.”

“‘Broken arm butte’?” Tinsley questioned, sounding off a maniacal cackle from Fran.

“Ooh, ooh, you gotta let me tell this one,” she laughed, much to Ricky’s protests, “So, 6 or 7 years ago we stopped by there to make camp for the night, back when we were more of an incognito crew.”

“Fran if you continue this story I will make your existence pain,” Ricky threatened.

“Try me, anyways so we set up camp and Ricky bet all of us a dime that he could climb up to a notch on the butte. It wasn’t too high up, but high enough that none of us believed him because Ricky sucks at climbing. So we accepted, obviously, it was gonna be an easy 10 cents.”

“Fran-“

“Oh quiet you,” she hushed Ricky for a second time, “So he did it. He made it up to the ledge and sat up there, but what he didn’t see up there was a lizard. So it spooked him by moving and he tripped off the ledge and fell, then we all heard this ‘snap’ as he lands rather painfully, and Mia rushes over obviously.”

“Mia?” Tinsley questioned, unaware that there was a fifth member he’d yet to meet.

“Oh, that’s me,” Doc chimed.

“Well turns out that his arm was broken, and all because of a lizard. We let him keep his dime though. Mia had to patch him up and he wouldn’t stop asking us for some of the whiskey in Mayor’s bag, which was fair because we were enjoying it but Mia didn’t let him. He was the grumpiest lil one armed bandit you’ve ever seen. Riding was a no no so we had to hurry over to his dad’s old place and boy was the old man mad. He let Ricky stay with him though.”

“Watching Ricky try to shoot with one of his arms bound to his body was pretty funny,” the Mayor observed.

“Why do you all insist on making my life hell sometimes,” Ricky grumbled.

Tinsley blurted, “What, scared that the police will find out that you’re afraid of lizards? I can see the headline now,  _ Local Bandit Terrified of Lizards! _ ”

“Not you too! Okay you three shut up you’re bad influences on him.”

“Us? Bad influences? Who would’ve thought?” Mayor retorted.

“Yeah  _ lizard boy _ ,” Mia managed through gasps of laughter.

Ricky decided that now was a good time to eat his apple so that he would not feel the temptation to shoot one of his coworkers in the foot. The conversation fell back into a lull as they approached their target through the afternoon. A day full of riding without a lunch break was beginning to take its toll on Tinsley, though his companions seemed to be fine with it. The sun had begun to settle lower in the sky, though the color of the sky had not changed since noon. The sunset would be showing in a little while though, so they decided to not set up in the massive shadow cast by the butte. 

Scraggly vines grew up the natural structure, little ledges poking out from the sheer faces. The top of this butte was not fully rounded, still pretty sharp for something so old. The rain had not worn down the rock yet, Tinsley mused to himself. He too wouldn’t let himself be worn out by the rain, but the color had been flushed from him as well long ago, no dusty pinks on the butte until the sun began to paint the whole desert dusty pink, the cacti still poking out with the greenery.

The sun further faded into shades of brilliant orange and red and yellow, purple seeping over the horizon as the world was cast in shadow, albeit the moon. The new pale light illuminated the five at the fire with the coals illuminating their faces.

Conversation at dinner was civil, Tinsley couldn’t help but notice that these were some of the nicest criminals he’d conversed with. Given, he hadn’t tried to arrest and imprison any of them yet, but they were still nice enough.

Dinner was disappointing that evening, some jarred fruit and stale biscuits with jam graciously provided by Fran. After checking the perimeter of their camp and horses, the Mayor came to tell them he was turning in for the night. Fran, then Mia soon followed. Apparently riding didn’t tire their muscles as much as it did their eyes. Ricky sat by the fire, generally the last one to go to sleep. Tinsley just wasn’t tired.

Ricky started up a conversation, clearly uncomfortable with the silence after a while, “The stars are nice tonight, wouldn’t you say?”

“I dunno, the smoke of the fire kind of obscures my view of the milky way, but you’re right, they are very clear.”

“It’s reassuring, the way that they’re always in the sky. They might move, but you know that they’re always coming right back to you. Stars are fascinating.”

Tinsley sat there and appreciated the shiny sparks in the navy blue of the night sky, thousands upon thousands in his stare for observation and appreciation. He wondered if each star was unique, if each star has its own brilliance for a reason. The mysteries of the cosmos always intrigued Tinsley as a boy, the mystery of the skies and what lay in them. The moon, the sun, the stars. He searched for a constellation that he would recognize from his childhood.

“There’s the big dipper,” Ricky laughed, noticing his concentration on trying to trace a pattern in the sky with his eyes.

“Yes, thank you. I’m trying to find a notbasic constellation,” Tinsley continued searching for the belt of orion, or another set of stars that he would recognize. A-ha! “There’s orion the hunter, you can always find him in the three stars of his belt, and his bow.”

“That’s a few lines and an arc that you found in the stars, Tinsley.”

“Nope, do you even know any constellations  _ besides _ the big and little dipper?”

“Never paid attention to anything else. North star helped guide me to my destinations, and the big and little dipper were the easiest ways for my parents to point me home. Reassuring to think that at least the North star has always been there,” Ricky calmly thought aloud.

“Well my childhood was a bit more seasoned with astronomy. My dad was an amateur astronomer, so he was kind of obsessed with what’s in the sky. Guess that passed on to me,” Tinsley chuckled.

“Yeah, I can honestly say that neither of my parents really had an interest in this, but I’d like to learn. I think it’s fun when the constellations make sense.”

“Like which ones? You called Orion senseless just moments ago,” Tinsley argued.

“I don’t know. I’ll tell you when you show them to me one day,” Ricky whispered loud enough for Tinsley to hear towards the end of the statement.

Tinsley decided to turn his eyes back to the sky, finding more and more of his favorite familiar celestial bodies as a child. He thought about some questions that he wanted to ask Ricky since the moment Tinsley met him. Pushing his words around in his mind, he began to feel a pair of eyes boring into him, more deeply than just the normal stares he got sometimes. He ignored it, continuing to trace patterns in the sky with his finger until he felt like talking to Ricky again.

“So why are you even on a wanted poster? Doesn’t really say on the poster,” Tinsley asked, genuinely curious.  _ Wow CC,  _ his brain chimed _ , What a way to start a conversation with someone new!  _ But the man in front of him didn’t really seem to be a genuine criminal type. If Tinsley hadn’t seen him kill two men in cold blood, that is.

“Well I suppose I’d have to add two more murders to the charge, but so far not too much. Unless you count 15, no, 17 to be a lot. That and a couple hundred dollars from a dozen or so banks around the area,” Ricky shrugged it off, as if it was the normal career on the planet.

“Am I supposed to just ignore the fact that you’ve killed 17 people?”

“No, you can ask all the questions you want. But I will ask you this: in your time as sheriff, how many people do you think you’ve seen hung or shot or dead by other means ‘in the name of the greater good’?”

“You’re edging into a strange territory, but I’ll allow it. I’d say the number is in the early thirties, why?”

“Well, sheriff, I find it strange that a man trying to provide for his family through seedy means can get sentenced to death while an abuser can get away with it as long as it’s in the dark. I find it strange that children have to work to support their parents, that women still don’t get enough to be able to live well with a large family. Where’s your law then?” Ricky mused, “If it’s up to criminals to take care of things like that, what does that say about our quality of life?”

Ricky’s face had drained of any of its earlier amusement, Tinsley absorbing his thoughts for a moment before formulating his own response, “You ask questions that muse upon the weakness of our system, rather than all the good it’s doing right now. That does not mean, by any sort of way, that it’s perfect. You’re right, there’s a fair share of bad in the world. If you choose to focus on it. But there’s still an awful lot of good out there. Take it from someone who’s seen deeds both great and small in both categories. Hope, love, family, kindness, so much more. Humans aren’t all cold and heartless. We can only perpetuate the greatest in each other with love and hope for the best outcome in the stormiest sea.”

“Empathy is not a given trait. Giving may be in our nature, but selfishness too easily clutches to the conscious. I’ve seen far too many people without that, Tinsley, and given them their fair share of the life that they’ve never had to live before. I’ve taken the chances that they’ve taken from others,” Ricky sighed, eyes flicking from Tinsley’s own back down to the dying embers of the fire, “Greed is like a fire, consuming an individual in its luster. We all have something we want, even you.”

“Greed and hate can only take hold in selfish people, Ricky. I won’t pretend that I’ve seen what you’ve seen, but I’d like to be able to change your mind. Oftentimes,” he reached for the smaller man, settling on a limp hand to squeeze reassuringly, “we have a greater proficiency for love.”

Ricky’s head snapped back up at the contact, and Tinsley soon found a pair of walnut eyes staring at him with a mix of awe and doubt. Almost like he couldn’t believe that someone like Tinsley existed, like he was living in a dream. He started to lean towards Tinsley slightly, a flush already beginning in his cheeks.

Tinsley continued to hold Ricky’s hand, and they stared for only a few seconds more until Ricky leaned back from his slight position change and stood up to walk away from the fire.

“Goodnight Tinsley,” he whispered on the way back to his tent, most of the phrase gone to the cool desert night.

Tinsley watched him saunter off before turning his gaze back to the sky, stars brilliantly shining above him. The north star taunted him with it’s reminder of home, of solo journeys through the desert. He missed the true peace of the night, when it was just him and Achilles on a checkup mission. The nights when the stars and the creatures of the night were his only company, and the sounds of the desert were his lullaby.

How was Banjo doing anyways? Did he get the note that Tinsley had left behind for him? He supposed he’d know when there was a search party headed after him. Deputy McClintock, for all his merits, tended to overreact to the situations that Tinsley put himself in. Regardless of the note, he did expect that Banjo would go looking, or send someone looking for him.

But he didn’t want to think about that. This would be his little adventure, a short but sweet inquiry into the lives of criminals. With an added bonus of the safety of his county. Tinsley crawled over to his sleeping roll, throwing a blanket halfway over his form, not wanting to overheat. And he let the owls and insects sing him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y’all enjoyed! Thanks for tuning in again, drop a kudos or comment if you enjoyed! Always gives me serotonin to see those.


	5. The Duality of a Snake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tinsley follows Ricky on a short mission, and quickly discovers that a snake does indeed have two faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey party people! It’s late, but you get two posts in a row this week anyways now, since I have ch 6 ready to go for Friday! Please enjoy, I really have tried to get back to my normal update schedule.

Tinsley rubbed his eyes, observing that the sun had risen all the way over the desert sands, staining the ground with it’s light and starting to fully paint the sky blue again. 

He yawned as he emerged from his tent, taking a few shaky steps fully stood up. He wore his normal outfit, golden snakes glaring at Tinsley from the vest haphazardly thrown on top of Ricky’s shirt. The black shirt itself was also messy; tucked but only half buttoned. The sleeves were rolled to his elbows while the light wasn’t too intense. His coat was slung over his arm, hat absent from his lovely curls.

“Ricky, we have company, try to be decent,” the Mayor grumbled, still making coffee on the fire for the larger crowd.

“He just wants to have his tits out this morning, loosen your corset and take a breath,” Mia grumbled, having emerged from her own tent in a pair of jeans and a more feminine red top, almost as if she cut the top part off a dress and sewed it to jeans instead.

“And there’s no need for such language while he’s here either,” Mayor sneered at her, continuing to flip through his maps, “Fran, could you check the coffee for our friends?”

Francesca left her seat to check the fire, Ricky promptly plopping down in the spot she left empty. Which just happened to open his shirt even further, the material billowing out where the buttons were undone. Not that Tinsley was paying attention to that, definitely not. 

Tinsley tried not to stare, but he probably gazed at the tanned muscular area for a little too long. It was hard not to when he noticed multiple pink and white scars in the area before he stopped himself and turned his attention towards the fire.

“Like the show, eh?” Mia whisper-laughed in his ear, walking over to help Fran attend to a pot that she had neglected to stir.

Ricky wiped at his eyes, pointing to a few spots on the maps.

“We do need to go here, and here.”

Mayor counteracted by pointing out some other locations, nearby to red dots that Ricky had pointed at. “Those are the high danger towns, we should head over to these ones instead. And what about the plans for today?”

“No no, we’ll still be headed over here for tonight, have some errands to run,” Ricky countered, “And we do still have a job to do in that town.”

“Technically-“

“Don’t even try it with me, Fran,” Ricky sighed, staring at Tinsley, “Just following orders.”

“Yeah yeah, no traitors, no loose ends,” Mia cut back in.

Tinsley blew on his coffee before quickly downing the whole mug, “So what is the plan for today? I don’t like vaugeries, ladies and gents.”

“So he speaks,” Ricky grinned, “Mornin’ sunshine.”

“Well if we start heading over there this afternoon, I could load up on some of your and the girls’ ammo this evening. The three of you really need to find better ways to control your boredom,” Mayor mused, “But I’m _not_ going into Dorothy's place.”

“Mia? Fran? Will either of you be my backup?”

Tinsley was sick of feeling invisible in the conversation, but all of these things were interesting things to know about the quartet in front of him. Though he didn’t much like being ignored either. He decided that he would speak up.

“I’ll go with you,” Tinsley murmured, picking up a few stale crackers out of his bag. At least with that he’d get some answers as to the plan here. Tinsley honestly wanted to put the whole group in cuffs or just let them leave his county as soon as possible with little to no bloodshed. _Sure,_ they were nice. But so are cats until you approach them or rub them the wrong way. And he did _not_ want to know what any of them were like if he was against them. They didn’t seem like the type to keep promises of safety or protection well.

“Actually, if he’d go with you that would be better for the group as a whole. I’m going to restock on some food essentials and get fitted for some new blouses. Fran wants to go find a new knife, and you know the rule about the second Wednesday of every month, Ricky,” Mia happily explained, going to put out the fire with a shovel.

Ricky smirked, and Tinsley could tell he didn’t hear half the words she was saying; “Oh I was fine with it in the first place.”

_He was definitely going to regret that offer later._ Though their conversational skills were more than adequate, and Ricky was quite the interesting partner for that kind of a talk, Tinsley more than anyone knew what a two faced bitch looked and sounded like. He just had yet to see the extent of the turn between Ricky’s two faces. The snakes on his vest really represented that well, twinkling in the sunlight underneath his coat.

Mayor and Ricky continued to silently study their maps after cleaning their portion of the ‘meal’ up. Ricky ducked back into his tent for a moment after breakfast, coming back out with his full outfit on, hat included.

The sun was high in the sky as they continued working in near silence. Mayor had pulled out his cartographers kit and begun to work on maps, editing some of his old designs.

Tinsley resorted to ‘reading’ an old journal that he kept in his bag. He got bored of watching his subjects sit on rocks and draw maps and- well whatever it was that Ricky was doing. He had a couple pencils of his own, and a half charred stick. Tinsley went off to pack his own gear up and go on a short ride, the time for lunch passing by quickly as he found a little bit of shade underneath a large sage bush, getting the bottom of his coat dusty as he sat down and took some deep breaths.

Didn’t he have something in his bag to eat? Maybe the remainder of those crackers would make a decent enough lunch with some prickly pear jam he took from the cupboard. He settled to just sit down, the sun comfortably warm in the shade, placing his hat down in his lap and leaning against the tree. Sleep soon claimed his mind, for an hour at least.

Nobody seemed to notice his return, Ricky and the Mayor back at the maps and Fran finishing up repair on an old horse bridle. He sat down at their makeshift sitting area, his small pack already full of his sleeping supplies. Tinsley read his well loved copy of _Moby Dick_. His father had gotten it for him as a present, and he had read it quite frequently after his move to the west, always wanting to be reminded of the cold, cruel, salty waves he grew up so close by.

His mother had said that that’s why his father’s eyes were blue and grey, that they captured the inky, stormy sea that he frequented in the navy. The uniform set to match the steely blue-grey, it seemed. He would always mess around with the cap when his father wasn’t around, playing as boys do while his mother fussed over the state of the uniform. His father’s eyes were blue, but his mother’s eyes were soft brown, they were the spring filled with flowers and grass and trees when his father returned from his storm. They were the garden where she worked, and one day they were Tinsley’s.

He did inherit an ‘interesting mix’ from his parents, from his father’s calmed nature to his mother’s passion, to something as simple as getting his father’s early grey streaks through hair that was smooth and colored like caramel.

“We can’t leave until this afternoon, I’ve got some repairs to do on some equipment. Until I’m done we only have one horse, so I gave it to Mia,” Fran added to whatever conversation they were having.

“Fran it’s already noon,” Mayor remarked, checking his pocket watch.

“So? That’s still a couple hours for me to work on things. Go back to drawing your maps, you didn’t complain about it earlier,” she supplied in return.

“How was the ride then?” Mayor asked, swapping the subject of the conversation.

“It was nice, I found a shady spot to rest at,” Tinsley answered, “What repairs were Fran talking about?”

“His stirrup needs some reinforcing and my saddlebag got stabbed a few days before we came into your town. I did a quick patch job but it’s coming undone so Fran knows how to fix it,” Ricky drawled, doodling some rather good illustrations of landscapes and animals on the side of some area specific maps that Mayor was working on earlier.

“And you know how she gets before a night on the town with Mia,” Mayor grumbled, repinning his hair back into place after loose grey strands blocked his view of drawing the coastline of the Mexico-California border.

_Interesting,_ Tinsley thought as he went to sit by Ricky and Mayor.

“Watch the work, if you smudge any of these I will personally assure you a slow death by quill or pencil, preferably both.”

Tinsley slightly backed off at that statement, not wishing his own death any sooner than time would allow it. But, he supposed, time worked in mysterious ways. Didn’t make him want to die by pencil, so he would try to avoid that fate.

“Well I’m going to watch Fran repair my bag so I know how to do it ‘properly’ the next time anything happens,” Ricky noted, walking away from the pair.

Hours passed as Ricky and Fran repaired gear, cleaned up the remnants of camp, and got Mayor to clean up his gear as well. Most of the afternoon heat had passed them by at the time that the group of four saddled up and rode off in whatever direction Mayor took them.

Most of the ride passed in silence, dust kicking up from the grains of sand and dust below. Tinsley noted that there were a few hawks in the sky as they rode through a particularly rocky area, slowly and carefully as Mayor dictated them to. They didn’t need an injured horse or human as they approached town and still had work to finish. Two hawks with brilliant red tails soared over them, catching both Ricky and Tinsley’s eyes.

“Oh to be a hawk,” Ricky teased, taking up the back of the group with Tinsley.

“I would assume you find a kindred spirit in them, but the designs on your hat, gun, and vest say otherwise.”

“Did you know that the rattlesnake not only uses its venom as a hunting tool, but as a defense mechanism against predators? It is why hawks and owls have thick scales on the feet, to avoid their attacks as they pursue the snake. I like to think that the hawks are the ones with their heads in the clouds, thinking that they can catch every snake they come across without any scars,” Ricky explained.

“Rattlesnakes also prey on the weak, but they give a warning to those they consider a threat. I wonder, Ricky, for whom do you use your venom? Predator or prey?”

“And how tough are your scales, Sheriff?” Ricky returned.

“I suppose tougher than yours, or perhaps it is just tougher than the threat of your bite,” Tinsley mused in return.

“Well, I use my venom on anyone who thinks they have thicker scales than they do. Generally the ones in the sky believe that they’re invincible, but in reality they’re just as vulnerable as the things they think that they can protect. I just don’t want to be carried off before I get a shot at the ones in the sky. It’s fun to see the realization. The fall from the sky.”

“Yes, I suppose that would be your main concern when you slink out of your hole to slither around,” Tinsley sneered, “That you won’t get to go out in a blaze of glory, arrested like some common criminal. But that’s simply what you are. Just another snake, not smart enough to escape the hawks.” _It might just be a lowbrow move but did he care? No._

“Oh but I’ve managed it so far, maybe you need to get your head out of the clouds,” Ricky bit back in return, going to return to the front of the party about 20 feet up.

_I’m really going to regret volunteering, aren’t I?_ Tinsley asked himself as he continued to follow along, not regretting his actions but not wanting to face Ricky for the rest of the night either.

He stayed silent as they rode into town and met up with Mia, silent as Ricky booked the group a couple rooms for the night as the sun began to threaten it’s setting.

Mia and Fran left to pick up dinner for themselves, Mayor going off to some shops that only opened after dark (and to take their horses to a stable for the night). Tinsley and Ricky stood around in a small room with two beds and a couch, the ‘boys’ room. Mia had already gotten another twin room for her and Fran.

Tinsley began to fiddle with a wool blanket, picking at the stitching that frayed at the edges. Red thread came undone under his fingers after a few minutes of pulling at the knotted stitches. Clearly, it had gotten love in its early years of use. The orange that was likely once dark faded by many washes, the thread too worn to resist Tinsley’s fingernails.

“So you ready for the plan tonight?” Ricky walked in the room with shiny, wet hair and a tin of what Tinsley assumed to be a sort of hair product. Thankfully he was wearing an undershirt with some boxers, his outfit ditched and likely going through a wash. The woman at the counter had insisted on washing all of their clothes, Ricky seemed to know her well. The group Tinsley happened to be tagging along with seemed to know a lot of people.

_All good devils are able to masquerade under light until you expose their darkness._ Ricky went through the contents of his bag that he’d pulled off his saddle, his bedroll next to it. Tonight would be a nice break for their horses as well, it would seem, their saddles probably resting in a barn with the contents taken by the riders.

He pulled out an outfit eerily similar to his other one. _Did Ricky just have three copies of the same outfit?_ Tinsley inwardly laughed, until he noticed that there was something different about this set. His wool pants were set into place with a black belt, his vest adorned by a singular snake. It’s large body winded across the back and one of the front lapels, the head coming to rest on the other. He must have paid a fortune for that lace material and the embroidery job alone, but the shirt underneath with shiny golden buttons must have cost more. All of the pieces were clearly hand tailored, not just because of their impracticality but because each individual part of the outfit hugged Ricky’s body in a rich way.

“My coat is on the rack over there, care to grab it for me?” Ricky questioned, combing through his half dry hair with the product, the curls shining in their new set place.

“What are we even doing?” Tinsley questioned, still unclear on what their actual goal was with this. “You didn’t really explain anything at all in the camp.”

He helped Ricky slide on the frock coat with gold edging, his figure lost in the looseness of the fabric.

“Well, we’re stopping by an old friend’s place. She’s been quite the pal in getting some information, and I just want to give her a reward for a job well done,” Ricky explained, his voice syrupy and sweet.

“Do I even know what that information was?” Tinsley strained in return, “That still doesn’t really answer my question by the way.”

“She runs this bar type place. Oh,” Ricky’s face fell, his mouth stuck in the ‘o’, “Um, I have an odd request.”

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Well, you’re gonna want to ditch the badge, and stay close to me,” Ricky explained, poking at the price of silver on Tinsley’s coat, “The workers there don’t really like… lawmen. And I can assure that you don’t want their kind of attention either. You’re not the type.”

“Why? What do they do?” Tinsley questioned, now a little worried that he would get killed going there. He unpinned his badge nonetheless and placed it among his belongings.

“Let’s just go, you’ll figure it out. But if I’m right, which I will be, follow my lead.”

Ricky promptly swished out of the room, Tinsley following him out into the now dark desert. Lights came from windows of saloons and the occasional home. They continued to walk along the streets, making a few occasional turns. Ricky eventually led him to _the mirage,_ a saloon with a coat of green paint and white shutters, the doors a matching shade to the shutters. The original wood stayed on the deck, the floors, and the walls. The tables were full with chattering patrons, some even standing around and walking with their drinks. It seemed to be quite the hotspot for characters both sketchy and admirable.

A woman in the low lighting asked from behind a podium, “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

“I need to speak with Dorothy, it’s urgent,” Ricky picked at his nails, leaning against the wall and looking at the woman, whose dress was cut… low, to put it at the very least. The red straps also dangled off to the sides of her shoulders. But every saloon had a couple saloon girls, maybe this one just needed a different sized dress.

“She’ll be busy ‘til 10,” the woman drawled, “But I can think of some things for you to do until then. Two hours is a lot of time for a gent like you.”

“No, I can wait. Let her know that Goldsworth is here, and I’d like a booth please,” Ricky smugly replied, enjoying the look of panic on the woman’s face as she realized who Ricky was.

“Of course, I’ll get that right for you and your…” she paused, assessing Tinsley for a moment, “guest. I’ll come to get you when there is one, but until then enjoy the floor for a moment, get yourselves a drink.”

“Thank you. Tinsley, follow me,” he led Tinsley to a part of the floor with plenty of people walking around and conversing with each other, a feature he’d seen in not many saloons before, “I’ll get us some drinks, you stay here for a minute.”

Tinsley stood on the floor awkwardly, listening to the piano and fiddle off the stage begin and _oh, that’s why he needed to stay close to Ricky._ Girls in dresses just as revealing as the woman at the counter wandered around the floor and on the stage, some of them singing and playing instruments as well. 

Now Tinsley did like girls, but he did _not_ like seeking out ‘ladies of the night’. His exes had all been girls that he felt a genuine connection with at first, and he never soiled any of their honor like _that_. Which is why he panicked when Ricky was gone and a girl in a green dress approached him.

He didn’t want to be here alone, Ricky could just turn her down or say that they were there for drinks, but Tinsley struggled to think of a single word as she struck up a conversation with him.

“Now, what’s a girl gotta do to see a face like that in here more often? Especially with some stubble and everything, like a beard but cuter,” she muttered, standing just a little too close for Tinsley’s liking.

“Uhm, I’m just passing through,” Tinsley started to gain some of his confidence back, but he felt as if his hands had gone numb.

“Most of our patrons are ‘just passing by’. But you’ll be staying for at least the night, right?”

“Yes, but I’m not sure I’m picking up what you’re implying,” he shyly replied. He knew exactly what she was trying to do, but how did he reject her nicely? She was pretty and the like, emerald satin popping against her shockingly pale skin and contrasting her red painted lips.

“I mean, a whole night is sure a whole lot of time to spend all by yourself, a man like yourself. And I could surely use some company tonight. What’s your name?”

Tinsley thought he didn’t really want this woman to know his name, so he tried to quickly think of a different one, “J- John. My name is John.”

“Well John, riding all day in that bleak landscape must not be a lot of fun, but I’m plenty of fun. What do you say to that? Having a little fun with me?”

She’d managed to inch closer to Tinsley through the conversation, and the fog suddenly cleared from Tinsley’s panicked mind as he felt a hand come to rest on his wrist.

“I’m good, thank you. You seem nice, but I’m not really here for that,” Tinsley insisted, but the girl went on.

“Awww, a shy one, aren’t you? If you weren’t here to find someone why’d you come here in the first place? I promise I won’t tell a soul, what happens in the dark.”

In the dim lighting of the bar he searched for Ricky or the waitress lady, really anyone to take him away from this, “No, I’m not here for that. Ma’am, you do seem plenty nice, and I’m flattered, but I assure you that _that_ is not the reason why I am here.”

He pried his wrist away and left the floor in a hurry, looking for Ricky when the lady at the door found him first.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry about her, I saw what happened while I was cleaning out a booth for you guys. She’s just a little too stupid for her own good, but please don’t tell Ricky,” she breathed quickly.

“Why would I tell him? It was just a misunderstanding, happens all the time,” Tinsley reasoned, “It was partially my fault for not turning her down in the first place, I was trying to figure out how to do it kindly though. People like you don’t deserve any more insults than the rest of us.”

“Bless your heart, this is your booth. I’ll tell your friend Ricky to head over here, he was at the bar last time I checked, grabbing y’all some drinks.”

She had led him past the bar to a secluded booth in the back, the rickety benches clearly in need of another stain and finish. Most of the furniture in the place was desperately in need of one. He sat on a creaky bench and took a deep breath, trying to figure out how not to yell at Ricky for not informing him of some certain facts that he would have _greatly benefited_ from knowing before he entered the establishment.

Ricky came to join him a couple minutes later with four glasses on a tray that he’d managed to get from the waitstaff.

“Sorry the bar was a little busy, if the crowd was any indicator. Glad she was able to find you though, hope it wasn’t too much trouble.” He smiled at Tinsley with that criminally kind and genuine smile of his.

“It’s fine,” he brushed off the woman from earlier as he observed the drinks on the tray that Ricky had brought over, “What did you get from the bar?”

“I don’t know what you like to drink, so I got some of the things that I like but with a variety of alcohol so you can pick first. There’s an orange infused beer, mint julep, and a gin rickey. Then there’s the house beer, which is a little malty for my taste but it’s still good.”

“I think I’ll take the house and the julep. A rickey for the most famous Ricky is quite fitting,” Tinsley smirked, grabbing two glasses off the tray.

“I wouldn’t say I’m the most famous, but the compliment is appreciated.”

“I didn’t say that it was a good thing,” Tinsley returned, “Blackbeard is famous but he was a horrible person.”

“As I aspire to be,” Ricky smiled in return, “Famously horrible.”

He sipped at his drink, waiting for a response. “I think you just want attention, regardless of if it’s positive or negative,” Tinsley supplied.

“No, just don’t care. I’ve always been told that it’s easier to give into your darkest urges and live that way than be a goody two shoes. Being famous is just a bonus,” Ricky took some more sips of his drink, Tinsley already having finished his julep.

“Wow are you gonna get extremely intoxicated that early? I didn’t know that I was that horrible of company to keep?”

“If you must know, you’re strangely charming but equally annoying. It causes quite the mix of wanting to continue conversation and strangle you before another word comes out of your mouth. You’re quite the smug bastard, you know?”

“And you’re self righteous but extremely unconfident,” Ricky chuckled, “A perfect match, wouldn’t you say?”

“If by ‘perfect match’, you mean ‘likely to kill each other before the other manages to do it’, then yes,” Tinsley started on his beer.

Ricky still hadn’t finished his first drink when Tinsley polished off the second beer, and the woman in the green dress approached their table again.

“Goldsworth and gu- shit I’m sorry, you should’ve said you were Goldsworths guest! I feel horrible, I didn’t know,” she blabbered, looking at Tinsley with suddenly genuine sorrow.

“Uh, you’re fine, not a big deal. I said no and you eventually walked off.”

“Phew, I’m still sorry though. Dorothy is ready for you in her office though, just up the stairs. You should know where,” she addressed the two, Ricky dragging Tinsley off.

“What did she mean, ‘she’s sorry’? What happened while I was gone?” Ricky questioned as they walked up the stairway.

“Nothing horrible. She just flirted with me, and I said I’m not interested,” Tinsley flushed trying to recount the events to Ricky.

“Oh, I bet you articulated that _so well,_ didn’t you?” Ricky actually chuckled, shocking Tinsley a little bit. He’d assumed the worst since everyone was ‘so sorry’ about what happened. It was just a little misunderstanding, after all.

“Ricky!” a southern woman drawled from a doorway at the end of the hallway.

“Dorothy, it’s good to see you!” Ricky exclaimed, his words sounding slightly strained to Tinsley. It went unnoticed to the blonde, however. Two rather intimidating women stood outside the door, _what kind of a business was this? A three in one criminal information spot, bar, and place for lonely hearts?_

He accepted the hug from Dorothy’s arms, as she noticed Tinsley. “Well come in doll,” she gestured, beckoning Ricky into her office.

Ricky was soon to follow, Tinsley attempting to do the same. She stopped Ricky in the doorway, “Nuh, uh. Your boy toy waits outside. You know how I like to do business, so again; he waits out here or you leave.”

“Oh no-“ Tinsley began, trying to explain that he was not involved with Ricky Goldsworth in any sort of a friendly manner, until Ricky himself interrupted.

“That will be of no issue. Tinsley, wait outside. Please,” he gritted his teeth into a smile on the last word.

“Fine,” Tinsley huffed, standing out in the hallway with the two bodyguards.

He stayed out in the hallway, waiting this out.

Ricky stepped over the threshold and began his conversation with Dorothy.

“So how are you doing sweetheart,” Dorothy mused, playing with a pen.

“I’m fine, how are you doing Dorothy?”

“Oh I’m as sunny as a day in South Carolina in summer. The underworld will absolutely _adore_ the news I just learned.”

“Which is?” Ricky questioned, “You were told to keep me out of your ‘gossip ring’ after all.”

“Every secret has a price, obviously, and how can I resist selling such a valuable piece of information? It’s quite the news that _the_ Tricky Ricky has a new criminal charge under his belt, and quite literally on that last bit. And I’m assuming he’s quite the weakness, unless he’s just as bad as you. Hard to think someone with eyes like that is anything but a cop though,” she explained quickly, “And yes, my patrons and security might be dumb enough to not see it, but I recognize a member of the police force when I see one.”

“Impressive,” Ricky chuckled, “For someone like you at least. But, on that note let us get to business.”

“I assume you’re here to purchase something along the lines of the last thing you got while you were here?”

“No, actually,” Ricky smiled widely, Dorothy resisting the urge to shudder at the off putting look in his eyes. He gestured to a girl standing at the corner of the room. Seemingly just picking her nails but Ricky knew that she was listening, learning from Dorothy in the trade of secrets and running a front to that rather nasty bit of business, “Ah, so you’ve taken a protégé under your wing, more professionally than the last time we spoke.”

“Yes, she’s smart as a tack, but I thought you wanted to get to business? What are you buying today?” 

“Nothing. In fact, I got something else for free. And I have a gift for you for your last piece of information,” he explained, a small smile appearing on Dorothy’s face.

“Oh, you know you don’t have to bring me gifts or anything for a good deal, but what’d you end up getting for free?”

“You’re a smart girl, you know that? Fooling him for that long? Of course, I always had my suspicions, but he finally decided to listen to me after one too many thoughts planted in his head. And, of course, some evidence I had a friend take from one of your schedules. I know you’ve been working both sides.”

“Ricky, that’s completely ludicrous. You know where my allegiance lies!”

“I do, and it’s not entirely with either side. You just want to make money. I’m glad you took a protégé though, maybe you’ll be a good example for once.”

He pulled out his pistol in the blink of an eye, nobody searched him at the door after all. She had seriously thought that she could trust Ricky of all people.

_Bang._ Tinsley heard it from inside the door and he followed the body guards into the room to reveal Ricky with a gun drawn. He quickly pulled out a second to point at the two guards, both of them having reached for their own weapons but not having reached them yet.

“Now ladies, I know that you don’t want to lose your lives simply because your ex boss lost her’s. I’m sure,” he paused, asking a shocked woman in the corner a question, “What’s your name?”

“Emily, my name is Emily,” she bleated.

“Well I’m sure that Emily will be perfectly rational as a replacement. So I got my justice, and I’ll be happy to send some checks your way to ensure a smooth transition of power. How does that sound? Nobody else has to die, you even get a few extra bucks.”

They stared at each other, a silent interaction between the two.

“Go, we’ll hide the body.”

Tinsley gawked at the two, choosing to keep his mouth shut for a moment. Ricky calmly walked out of the room, offering his arm to Tinsley. Tinsley didn’t take it, and Emily shut the door to the room with the two guards in it.

Tinsley began to protest, “Ricky, that was completely uncalled for! What did she-“

Ricky pulled him into a room, supposedly one that went with the other type of business that the group was performing. He shut and locked the door behind them, then turned back around with a gun drawn. Tinsley was pressed further and further back until he hit a wall, staring at the gun for a moment before his eyes came back to meet Ricky’s.

“Listen, Tinman. I’m the one calling the shots here, but even I’m just following orders. That was one of them. If you don’t like it, I can shoot you right here or let you go if I’m feeling nice. It would be a shame to splatter those pretty brains on the wall, so I might just spare you,” he growled at Tinsley, tone low and threatening. So _this_ was the predator side of the snake, the one everyone that feared him saw. Not the nonchalant, level headed, smug bastard that caused trouble for fun, but a truly venomous predator that could leave death and sorrow in its wake if you provoked it.

“If you don’t want me to ask questions then why did you let me tag along?” Ricky suddenly felt a knife press against his stomach, threatening to penetrate his vest and shirt into his flesh.

“Touché,” Ricky’s personality flipped back to his normal nonchalance, but with an added layer of menace that didn’t go away, “I had to kill her because she was giving our info to your side. Not a very good bargain, since she promised allegiance to my,” he paused, “to me.”

“Still doesn’t explain why you shot her.”

“A warning, of sorts. If you tell, you'll be the next warning. I suppose a nice disappearance would fit you nicely if you choose to betray our bargain,” Ricky smugly added, “Sealed with a kiss, after all.”

“You broke it first, killing is causing trouble,” Tinsley replied, so close to pressing the blade into Ricky’s abdomen and dragging it across. He resisted the urge as to not stoop to Ricky’s level.

“Not trouble if the person won’t be missed. And the organization goes on. The business hasn’t lost anything, they even offered to help me out. Ain’t that nice of them,” Ricky even mocked Dorothy’s accent towards the end of the statement, “Nice to see you with your head out of the clouds, though.”

He bit back any response, Ricky letting go of his jacket lapels and walking towards the door.

“You coming?” he asked.

Tinsley pushed himself up off the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, if you enjoyed make sure to leave a kudos or comment. Make sure to tune in Friday evening (or really early saturday, I have an engagement to attend and it might run late), and I love y’all to bits! Peace out for now gamers.


	6. Tamales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tinsley meets some new people at the lodge. This one does have some possible triggers, please check the A/N.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOF so it’s Sunday. Sorry, hope you enjoy, I felt the need to rewrite half of it so that’s why it’s late.  
> Trigger warnings: Abuse, mentions of past abuse, and that’s about it.

The ride the next day was… awkward, to put it at the very least. Ricky was a little more tense than usual, but Fran and Mia chalked it up to him sleeping on the couch in the boy’s shared room. He snapped at Mayor a couple of times when Mayor attempted to gently correct Ricky, or suggested a slight rest.

“Ricky, nothing will change if we stop for lunch. You really seem like you need more rest,” he politely suggested.

“Fine, but I don’t want to eat anything. I had a sandwich before we left and an apple,” Ricky huffed, surveying the surrounding area for a good rest stop, “We should head for the mouth of the canyon, it’s only a couple miles away and it’s plenty cooler than out here.”

“It’s also along our route, I won’t let you coerce us through the canyon,” Mayor countered.

“Ricky, he's putting his foot down. Stop acting like a child,” Tinsley said roughly, “There’s plenty of shade over there, and it seems like a fine place to rest.”

“Mia could use a snack as well,” Fran offered, also electing to stop for a couple hours.

“Fine, but we’re only stopping so that Mia can grab a snack. I really would hate to be late this time,” Ricky huffed, clearly more irritated than he needed to be.

Tinsley knew that his interaction with Ricky was likely part of the reason for Ricky’s behavior that day, but it couldn’t be the only reason. Ricky rode off quickly to the spot Tinsley had gestured to, Mia and Fran following at his pace.

Mayor slowed his own pace, coming to meet Tinsley on the trail.

“Listen, I’m really sorry about Ricky. He doesn’t do well when we have to check in, there are… _certain individuals_ that he has a difficult relationship with,” Mayor carefully spoke his way through the sentence, clearly avoiding certain words.

“Like who? I would think that he’d be a riot around criminals,” Tinsley smiled, “I think he’s just mad at me.”

“Trust me, sheriff. Ricky might have it out for lawmen, but you’d know if he hated you, or was mad at you. He has quite the temper,” Mayor wistfully returned, “The people, or rather, person, that he’s trying to please is… hard to impress, shall I say?”

“Well I know about that temper he has. Didn’t know he had a thing for another criminal though. Hard to imagine that one married with a kid,” Tinsley gestured towards Ricky, stopped a couple hundred feet away from the pair with Mia and Fran, “Who is it?”

“No, I’m afraid it’s not like that,” Mayor hastily added, “You’ll understand if he decided to grace us with a greeting. And I doubt you’ve seen what his temper can do. What it can _really_ do.”

“Then why does he go back?” Tinsley questioned.

“I suppose you’d have to ask him,” Mayor sighed, “He’s not the type to open up about it without wanting to first.”

“And what would make him so inclined to do so to a stranger, rather than people he’s worked with for years?”

“My guess is as good as yours,” was his final word to Tinsley before he turned his attention to his cohorts.

Mia was rifling through her bag for a snack, Ricky sitting on a blanket that he placed so he could lean against a tree. He pulled his hat down to rest over his eyes.

“So, Sheriff, how are you enjoying your little ‘adventure’ with us so far?” Fran questioned, quirking an eyebrow.

“I would still put irons on every single one of you, but other than that the experience has been educational.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Ricky grumbled from underneath his hat.

“Is he ever _not_ like this?” Tinsley inquired. Apparently, even half-awake, Ricky still had a penchant for flirty sarcasm.

“No, but it does get less annoying when you know how to shut him up,” Mia concluded.

Ricky groaned, finally succumbing to sleep once the group had gone silent a few minutes later. Tinsley sat down at the edge of the blanket, Mia settling down in a position similar to Ricky’s for a small rest of her own. Mayor had elected to show some of his maps to Tinsley, and Fran had wandered off to let the horses eat something as well, under a watchful eye.

The blanket wasn’t very big, however, with four adults on it, two of them with their legs extended. Tinsley soon got uncomfortable with his posture, so he had to readjust. He surveyed his options, settling on shifting a little closer to Ricky, who was still fast asleep. He extended his own legs out, and continued to go over maps with the Mayor, examining designs for a couple of hours without realizing the time had gone by.

Fran came back to remind them, quickly bringing their horses back, “Someone wake up sleeping beauty and her brother, we gotta go!”

Mayor tapped Ricky’s boot and shook Mia slightly, bringing the both of them up off the blanket. Ricky was still drowsy as Mia packed up her blanket tiredly, shoving it into her saddlebag once it was strapped.

“Wait, wait,” Ricky sighed, fingertips rubbing his temples as he thought, “We can’t have Tinsley knowing where the lodge is.”

“Well how are you going to fix that, genius. It’s not like he can ride Achilles blindfolded,” Mia snapped.

“No, but we can put my cargo on Achilles and he can ride with me blindfolded,” Ricky blearily suggested, “No wait, don’t listen to me, I’m too tired to think.”

“That would work, actually,” Mayor responded, seriously considering the option, “With any of our horses, if I’m being truthful.”

“Well, Tinsley, how do you feel about that idea?” Fran asked.

“I don’t have any better ideas, and you guys are on a time crunch, so let’s do it,” Tinsley pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing.

Minutes later, he was sitting on the back of Aries with Ricky, blindfolded by an old cravat sitting near the bottom of Ricky’s pack.

The rest of the ride was pitch black until hours later, as they approached their destination within the last quarter mile.

“You can take it off now,” Ricky turned his head to speak for a second.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” the other three bandits agreed.

He took off the blindfold as they slowly approached a lodge. It was charming, for somewhere a little ways out of a town or city. It surely couldn’t be too far from somewhere with water, however. He observed the wooden structure, noticing the paint job on the door and railings. It was a chipped grey paint, but still intact for the most part. There were chairs on both the higher and lower balcony, and one of them looked to be already occupied that late in the afternoon.

As they continued to approach, the figure rose. Ricky groaned, dismounting his horse when they got close enough. Tinsley soon followed and took Achilles’ reins instead, guiding him along with the other horses.

“Welcome back, you’re hours late,” the tall man called from the front porch, smoking a cigar, “And I see you’ve brought a guest.”

“We blindfolded him at the canyon, and just told him he could take it off, stop glaring at me like that,” Ricky’s posture tightened when he spoke, handing off his horse to a stable boy, “Aries needs some water and a new pair of horseshoes before tomorrow afternoon. I expect you’ll take care of it.”

“Yes sir,” the younger man muttered.

Ricky’s face hardened into a steely glare, all of his playful sarcasm gone to the man in front of them.

“Yes, I suspected that you would at least be that smart. Who have you brought to us, and why?”

“Sheriff Tinsley,” Tinsley spoke up, not wanting the situation to dissolve any further, “And who might you be?”

“Well, it seems that my son can at least do one thing right,” he grinned, _well that’s where Ricky gets that from,_ “Welcome to the lodge, Sheriff. I’m Carlos Goldsworth, by the way.”

“Can we go in? Long day and all that,” Mayor politely asked.

“Of course,” he allowed all the guests but Ricky passage, stopping him for a minute. Tinsley ducked around the doorway to listen in to what he could.

“-told him?” a deeper voice, that was Carlos, questioned.

“No, I followed your instructions to the letter sir,” Ricky spoke plainly, the usual emotive tone gone.

“Apparently not, since you were an hour late. Go inside, say hello to your mother.”

Tinsley scrambled to get away from the door as he heard Ricky open it, pretending to take his boots off again in the mud room.

-

Ricky walked right by the mud room, only stopping to hang his hat on the banister to the stairs down a couple hallways.

“Mamá?” he yelled, not really wanting to check if she was in the kitchen or the living area.

“Kitchen!”

He walked to the kitchen, the smell of dinner already well infused in the air, “Ricardo! How are you, mi hijo? Hungry, I hope.”

“Hi mamá,” Ricky sighed happily, “I’m fine, a little tired but what can’t home cooked food and rest do?”

“Well, you’ll be happy to hear that I’m making a feast for you and your friends,” she smiled widely, “Including some of your favorite _tamales._ ”

“Thank you.”

“Come give me a hug, you look like you need one. But take off that dusty coat first, no dirt in the food.”

Ricky hung his coat over one of the chairs that had wandered into the kitchen, letting himself fall into his mother’s arms.

“What’s wrong, hijo? Did your trip go badly?”

“No, but I assume father told you we were bringing a guest, correct?”

“Yes, but he didn’t say what this guest liked to eat, so I hope they like what I made,” she sighed, releasing her son.

“If he doesn’t like your cooking, he doesn’t deserve to be eating at the Goldsworth table,” Ricky laughed.

“Ricardo, that’s rude. Go clean up, I’ll call dinner in a short while,” she muttered, shooing him out of the kitchen.

-

Tinsley wandered the house for a few moments, returning to the front porch. The sun was beginning to set, tinting the earth with rays of gold. He stared out over the horizon for a moment before he was drawn back to his purpose being there.

“Mr. Goldsworth, I don’t want to overstay my welcome. If you’d let someone take me to the nearest town, I’m sure I’d be able to find my way from there,” he requested, pulling his coat back on.

“Nonsense, stay for dinner. My wife is quite the excellent cook, and she did prepare something special for tonight,” Carlos assured.

Silence stretched between them, minutes passing like hours in Tinsley’s mind.

“Does he look like his mother?” Tinsley asked, not liking the heavy silence.

“Yes, I would have to say that he’s more of a looker, like his mom,” Carlos laughed, the smile reminding him of Ricky again.

A bell chimed somewhere within the lodge, “That would be my wife, alerting us that dinner is prepared. Follow me.”

He followed Carlos back into the house, though something in his subconscious didn’t like the idea of spending one more second in the house than was necessary. The dining room had a foriegn smell to it, but not a bad one. There were a few clay pots on the table, resting on hot pads. A few different bowls with dip also scattered around the spread. A plate of corn, fresh off the cob, also lay near the pots.

“You must be our guest,” a woman, who must have been Mrs. Goldsworth smiled from the head of the table, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Lucy.”

_Carlos was not wrong, Ricky does look a great deal more like his mother._ Black, wavy hair was tied into a bun at the back of her skull, a couple pieces straying out. Chestnut eyes were set into terra-cotta skin, slightly wrinkled by time. She was short as well, shorter than Ricky by a couple inches, at least. She shook Tinsley’s hand, giving him a wide smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Lucy, I’m Sheriff Tinsley.” He nodded in return.

“I hope you came hungry,” she ushered him into a seat, “I know all of these alborotadores do.”

“We love you too, Mrs. Goldsworth,” Mia snickered.

Ricky appeared in the doorway, donning a fresh pair of pants, white shirt and red vest with a simple striped pattern. He looked around the room, noticing that his other company had all tidied up, at least a little bit.

Ricky noticed his panic, walking up to the table with a smug look, “You look fine, Sheriff. I’m sure that we wouldn’t have anything to fit you anyway.”

“And Francesca refuses to wear any skirt I sew for her,” Lucy huffed, “At least you are wearing more proper attire than jeans and an old shirt of Ricky’s.”

“That was one time, Mrs. Goldsworth,” Fran sighed, “I’m wearing a nice blouse today.”

“I suppose I’ll accept that,” Lucy sniffed, “But let’s eat!”

Lucy began serving everyone at the table with food from the two pots. One pot contained _stuff_ wrapped in corn husks, and the other had shredded meat in it. The pot with the meat was significantly less full than the pot with the other things. She made her way around, eventually asking Tinsley how many he wanted.

“Um, not to sound rude, but what are we eating? I don’t think I’ve had anything like them before,” Tinsley stuttered, fiddling with his cuticles under the table.

“Oh! We’re having tamales, dear. They have meat and masa, which is a kind of corn dough. You can put cheese, salsa, guacamole, or more meat on top, or eat it plain,” Lucy kindly explained, “I’ll let you start with one to see how you like it.”

He looked around the table, everyone was already digging into their own food, so he carefully unwrapped his own tamale. He surveyed the table for the toppings, putting some of the red and green sauces on his plate that nearly everyone else had put with their tamales.

He took a bite of it plain first, and it was pretty good. The meat was a little spicy, he made a note to avoid adding more of it onto the tamale. He then moved on to experiment with the dips, the green one being his favorite by far.

“Do you like it?” Lucy asked, observing him silently.

“It’s very good, I like the green dip.”

Ricky stiffened up at his side, taking a deep breath before going back to his own food.

“It’s called guacamole,” Lucy corrected joyfully, piling more tamales onto his plate.

“I don’t think I can eat that many,” Tinsley quietly protested.

“Nonsense! You’re so skinny, you need more meat on your bones,” Lucy insisted, placing another on Ricky’s plate as well.

“Lucy, Ricardo has already had enough,” Carlos glowered.

“I don’t think you’ve had enough, dear,” Lucy huffed in return, “Ricardo needs to keep up his strength if you’re going to keep sending him off to go get shot at. All of them do, so eat up my little alborotadores.”

“Thank you Lucy,” Mayor chimed.

“Speaking of sending you out, I have to speak to you after dinner,” Carlos addressed Ricky, “And you too, Sheriff.”

Ricky anxiously checked the table, noticing that almost everyone was done, “May I be excused? I’ll meet you in your office, father.”

“You may be excused,” Carlos waved Ricky away, who continued to walk away stiffly.

“I’ll help you with dishes,” Mayor suggested, stacking plates and silverware to take to the kitchen.

“I can help too,” Fran offered, quickly getting away with Mayor.

“May I be excused as well?” Mia questioned, speed walking out of the room to the back of the house.

“I have to put leftovers away,” Lucy excused herself, grabbing pots with the hotpads to her left.

“Walk with me, Tinsley,” Carlos offered, a dark look in his eyes.

“I really think that I should be going,” Tinsley shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

“No, walk with me. I just have a… favor to ask of a good lawman,” Carlos explained, “Something that my son could never accomplish. I would like the legality of this matter to say between you and I, of course.”

“What could you possibly want that depends on me? I assumed that you would not care about the ‘legality’ of a matter, judging by your son’s career choice.”

“Well, you see, this matter is particularly important to me. And, as a tax paying citizen, I think I deserve for you to at least hear me out on this one.”

They stepped into a simplistic looking office room, where Ricky was sitting and smoking a cigarette, clearly trying to relax before Carlos entered the room. He breathed out another puff of smoke as Carlos gestured for Tinsley to sit down beside Ricky. Tinsley reluctantly sat down in an uncomfortable wooden chair as Carlos rounded the desk to sit in his own chair.

“Now, Sheriff, Ricardo has not told you this, but he did have another motive in asking you to come with him. You see, I asked him to. I have a problem of my own, one that I am sure that this freak and his little ragtag army couldn’t achieve in a manner that is respectable or legal,” he sneered at Ricky, who only stared back with his own icy glare, “But, Ricky is rather… persuasive, so I assigned him to bring me someone that will help us do this the right way. Can’t have anybody tie him to us, you understand?”

“Why did he shoot the man at the express station? Or his lackey?” Tinsley questioned, “That doesn’t sound like persuasion to me. I came to assure the safety of my county, and the citizens of it.”

“Wow, you did find me a real good one,” Carlos whistled, “But I’m sure you’re smarter than that, just hear me out. You see, something was stolen from me, long ago. Something that I thought I would never get back. But, as it happens, I have come into contact with the artifact again. I want to take back what was mine. _Without casualties,_ ” Carlos growled that last part at Ricky.

“I’m not sure that that’s the ‘legal’ way to go about things, sir,” Tinsley suggested coldly, “Stealing is not generally considered ‘legal’.”

“No, you misunderstand. I want to pay for the artifact. I just need to make sure that there won’t be any backstabbing, and I don’t want to have to show my face. My death would lead to a rather unfortunate set of events to play out,” Carlos drawled, pulling a case out from under the desk, “All my legally earned money. Not a cent of this was stolen.”

“Really, what’s your job?” Tinsley drolled, knowing that part of it was likely stolen, if not all of it.

“I worked for a law firm in my younger years, then moved west while land was cheap,” Carlos explained.

Ricky broke his resolve to not speak, sighing, “Father, for the last time-“

“Shut your mouth, I’m speaking. Tinsley, what do you think? I have a meeting arranged in Tombstone on Tuesday. You would have to ride for about four and a half days, so I need your choice by tomorrow afternoon.”

“I don’t think I should leave my Deputy alone for that long, this is a big county. I promised that I wouldn’t arrest your son or his cohorts if they behaved civilly, which they did, for the most part. I think I should be headed back tonight. I don’t mind night riding, I’m not particularly tired and my horse has been resting for a couple hours at the very least,” Tinsley calmly tried to excuse himself from the room.

“Oh, but you must at least stay for the night. Please consider it, you’d be helping retrieve an important historical artifact to my family,” Carlos pleaded.

“Father, he shouldn’t have to! He’s not the only goddamn Sheriff in the state,” Ricky raised his own voice, angry at his father, “Stop trying to manipulate him into saying yes when he has a job of his own to focus on!”

_Slap._ The sound let the air go silent afterwards, until Carlos cut through it with his own furious tone.

“Not another word out of you or you’re headed on the first fucking train to Oregon State!” Carlos snapped, “You’re lucky that I didn’t send your sick little head there the second the place opened. Your mother is the only reason why your sorry ass isn’t there.”

Tinsley stared in shock, Ricky sucking his teeth and clenching his jaw harder than before. There was a stark red handprint against his cheek, and Tinsley wouldn’t be surprised if it turned into light bruising in the next few days.

“And as for you, I think you’ll find that I can be _very persuasive_ . One thing that my son did seem to inherit from me is my temper, and I’m sure you’ve heard more than enough about his temper to know that you do _not_ want to upset me. So, how about you stay here for the night and actually consider my offer? I promise that you will regret saying ‘no’ this time,” Carlos smoothed back the rage from his previous statement, still letting his simmering pot of a temper boil over just slightly.

Tinsley mulled over his next words carefully, “I’m sure that my horse could use some more rest anyway, if you’d let me stay.”

“Wonderful,” he smiled, gesturing towards the door, “My wife will find you a room. But _you,”_ he gestured at Ricky,“get to stay for a few more minutes. We’re going to have a lovely chat.”

Ricky glared at his father, Tinsley walking towards the door. As soon as Lucy closed it behind him, the yelling started back up again.

“Let me show you to your room,” she sighed, guiding Tinsley away from the office.

-

“Why the hell do you feel like you have to convince the first person I bring you? I could have stopped along the way to Tombstone and picked up another officer or something!” Ricky shouted.

“I don’t trust you to complete the job without casualties,” Carlos reassured.

“Well that doesn’t mean that you get to lie to people like Tinsley! He’s one of the good ones, he doesn’t deserve to have everything he loves threatened. He worked so hard to get where he is, can’t you see it! He cares about what he does. He cares about the people he protects, even if he doesn’t think that they deserve protection.”

“This is just your sickness talking,” Carlos growled in return, “Love makes you weak son, weaker than you already are. Look at you, defending a man that you barely know just because you don’t want to lie to him.”

“It doesn’t matter! I don't like him! But he cares, and he’s willing to protect those he does care about. Just let him go if he says no again,” Ricky begged.

“I will not let you ruin my plan that I have been working on for years,” Carlos barked, grabbing Ricky by the lapels and throwing him to the side. Ricky fell against a wall, the back of his head knocking against the corner of a shelf. He leaned onto the shelf to prevent himself from collapsing entirely.

“You are weak,” he slapped Ricky across the face again, aggravating the mark, “Sensitive. Pathetic. Emotional. Like your mother. Why was I cursed with a son who acts like a daughter?”

He accentuated his points with more punches and slaps, avoiding Ricky’s face this time. Carlos knew that Ricky wouldn’t be able to tell anybody about it, that he would find shame in the story. He would continue on the next day, excuse the visible bruise with some bullshit excuse and move on with his life.

And it would stay that way until the day Carlos died, which could never come soon enough.

“Leave.”

Ricky wiped his bloody nose and limped out of the office, the dimly lit hallways only illuminated with a couple gas lamps that his mamá would likely turn off soon. He walked into one of the guest rooms, completely unaware of the figure on the chair in the corner.

-

Tinsley was sat in the dark in the room that Lucy had placed him in. He wasn’t reading or anything, just thinking. He could run away, try to escape in the night and leave a couple belongings behind so they would think he’s still there if they chose to check in on him.

He could also stay until morning, and break away from the group when he saw a sign of civilization. That might protect Ricky a little bit more, he reasoned. He didn’t know why he wanted to save Ricky, but certain events made certain that the short bandit was more of a puzzle than a painting.

So the sheriff sat, and processed. He made lists and ideas galore, and suddenly there was a light coming in from the hallway, and a shadowed figure making their way to his small washroom. The gas lamp went on, and he heard someone messing with his basin.

“Hello?” he called, walking towards the now lit room.

“Shit, I’m really sorry Tinsley. I’ll get out of your way. I thought that mamá would place you upstairs, she knows that I come here sometimes,” Ricky said shakily, his cheeks blotchy and eyes glassy.

“No, stay,” Tinsley assured, gently placing Ricky back onto the stool he’d tried to vacate, “You need help.”

“I can take care of it, thanks for your concern,” Ricky snapped, the usual ice making its way back into his voice, “I know you probably think I deserve it anyway.”

“Why would you say that?” Tinsley softly questioned, pulling a washcloth from off the counter and dipping it in the cold water from the basin.

“What, you never thought that a guy like me doesn’t deserve every scrape he comes by?” Ricky chuckled, stopping when his ribs hurt.

“Ricky, please take this seriously,” Tinsley sighed, dabbing at the area under his nose, “Where did he hit you?”

“Nowhere’s bleeding but my nose, I’ll probably have some bruises on my back and abdomen, and I hit my head on a shelf. Now will you calm down?” Ricky 

“Can I see your head?” Tinsley spoke softly after he examined Ricky’s cheek, which was now starting to turn purple. Carlos must have hit him there again.

Ricky tilted his head downwards with a roll of his eyes, Tinsley checking the afflicted area for blood or any sign of a fracture. Gladly there was neither.

“I want to check your ribs too. Those are a rather nasty bone to fracture, if he did manage to get one that bad,” Tinsley asked, “A cold cloth also might feel nice on it.”

“Since when did you become my doctor?” Ricky smirked, his sense of humor coming back.

“Just take of your shirt, asshole,” Tinsley sighed, “I can help you if it hurts a little too much.”

“Careful, my mom might hear you say that.”

Tinsley helped Ricky carefully remove both the red vest and white shirt, exposing Ricky’s back to Tinsley first. There were small white scars, then larger ones and even some pink, fresher scars. There were similar ones on his chest.

“So how’d you get all these?” Tinsley asked in awe.

“Most of ‘em are from fights or fires, the rest are from good ol’ dad. I’ll let you guess which ones,” Ricky shivered as the cool washcloth hit his back.

“Now that we’re back to that topic, do you want to tell me why you said all that earlier? About how you deserve this?”

“Aw hell, why not. You’ll be gone in less than a week anyways,” Ricky sighed wistfully, “People like you are generally the reasons why I get scars, they believe that they are the law, so they define the punishment that people like me get. Generally, that punishment happens to include the thought of me swinging from the gallows or shot dead in a ditch. Then the means of getting me there don’t usually matter, which results in all sorts of cuts and bruises.”

“Ricky, I-“ Tinsley thought over his words very carefully, searching for what he wanted to say, “I’m very sorry. Sometimes we do give the wrong people a little too much power for their own good. But I want to let you know that there are some good ones out there, however few. I would never believe that someone deserves anything but what the law says they deserve. And if there’s an ‘alive’ on that poster, then I tend to want to take someone in alive.”

“You really are one of the good ones, huh?” Ricky asked, Tinsley stepping around to check the bruising starting to form on Ricky’s front.

“I’d like to think so. Though that does involve seeing a fair bit of bad, and a fair bit of death.”

“And I am?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tinsley inquired.

“Am I good, bad, death, what do you see when you look at me?” Ricky inquired, a spark of curiosity in his sad eyes.

“I see pain, Ricky. You’ve been stepped on so many times that you want others to feel what you have. You want to take away the power that others feel that they have, when you feel like they deserve it. I see emotion, right now, hurt. I see love when you’re around your mom, your friends,” Tinsley spoke reverently, continuing to dab at Ricky’s bruises with a newly dampened cloth.

“Tinsley-“ Ricky stood up with the help of Tinsley.

“Call me CC, please,” Tinsley corrected.

“Well, CC, you told me a couple nights ago that we have a greater proficiency for love. You do, have that proficiency I mean. Men like me, or my father, we do not have that luxury. I do not get to love, at least not who I want to,” Ricky sighed, “My father, however, he just has a proficiency for anger and hatred.”

“He may not, but I know that you do,” Tinsley leaned into Ricky’s space, wrapping his arms around a still damp Ricky, “You have such a proficiency to love. It’s in your eyes, in the way that you care about your friends, in the way that you’re afraid to scare people off so you shove them away first.”

“I don’t want to scare you,” Ricky whispered, “I don’t want you to get hurt, either. I want you to be free, like the hawks.”

“I’m tough enough to get a few scars of my own. Don’t shove me away, please. I want to be free, but only if it means that I’m helping those in need of a protector. Let me care about you,” Tinsley reverently pleaded, Ricky moving to stand on his tippy toes.

This time when Ricky kissed Tinsley, Tinsley didn’t back away, or feel disgusted. They stood there, lips moving slowly and carefully for a few minutes. Neither of them wanted to break away, and neither of them wanted to take it further. Tinsley enjoyed the sensation of someone in his arms, holding Ricky tenderly even after they’d stopped the kiss.

His big, soft brown eyes looked at Tinsley with adoration as he asked, “Can I care about you too?”

“I think you already have,” Tinsley murmured, pressing a kiss against Ricky’s forehead, “Now let’s get some sleep, you need it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for tuning in, love y’all! As always make sure to leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed and make sure to tune in this Friday for another chapter *THAT I ACTUALLY HAVE PREWRITTEN FOR ONCE HURRAH*


	7. If Only for a Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tinsley spends some time thinking, and some time talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh it’s late, what a surprise. Regardless of my shitty timing, please enjoy to the best of your ability. I added something that I felt was missing, so hopefully you enjoy as much as I did adding it.

Tinsley didn’t get a single second of sleep, listening to Ricky’s even breathing as he thought. Ricky was just wearing a clean, borrowed undershirt and his boxers, Tinsley in the same attire but with sleeping pants on.

He stared at the slow rise and fall of Ricky’s chest, white fabric illuminated by the moonlight. Ricky looked peaceful, more peaceful than Tinsley had ever seen him look. He was also warm, like sand after a long, sunny day.. It would be nicer if he weren’t stuck in the heat of summer, but because of that it was a little uncomfortable.

Still, he let Ricky stay pressed against his side, not wishing to wake the smaller figure. What was he going to say the next morning? Would he just go along with them? Carlos had offered to pay for whatever it was that he was searching for. And he wanted it to be legal. 

_ And he threatened my life and the safety of everyone I hate marginally less than the rest of this pathetic world. _ Then, there was the stress of Ricky on top of it all. He would likely be punished in some way shape or form if Tinsley said no and left. So no pressure.

_ But why not? Why should I stay for someone selfish and rude and as cold as the snakes that they’re obsessed with? Why should I put my own career on the line when he won’t be punished too severely either way? Why do I even care, really?  _ Why, why, why, continued to storm through his mind, and the small noises around the house became silence as Tinsley blocked them out one by one.

It was truly quiet now. Not a single noise to disturb his thinking, and time seemed to freeze. For hours he stayed frozen, stuck in his self made silence. For hours the storm of questions assaulted every corner of his thought process.

The sky was still dark when he came down from his thinking, though the moon was now lowering itself agonizingly slowly into the sky. He assessed that it would be well past 3 in the morning. However, Tinsley still didn’t feel like sleeping. Anxiety riddled his brain, though with more trivial questions.

He worried if this would be the right choice, if it would have any consequences besides the obvious ones he’d considered. He would stay, Tinsley decided on that much. He couldn’t just risk the lives of even one town, much less if they decided to ravage the whole county. Keeping his own life was a bonus too, but that left him with Ricky. Ricky he was unsure about.

Sure, he was attractive, charming when he wanted to be, and he certainly liked Tinsley plenty; but Ricky was also unstable, unpredictable, the road shrouded in fog that could turn at any moment. He would have to rethink his affections, maybe he gave them out too easily in the wake of tragedy. Ricky was a criminal, to put it at the very least. He couldn’t just chalk all of his actions up to his upbringing, and he definitely couldn’t excuse them, no matter the excuse.

He focused on the slight feeling of breath on the side of his neck, counting them to try and feel a sense of reassurance, like in this moment things were okay. He tried to get his own breathing to fall into Ricky’s, to try to at least get a little sleep while he was here.

_ In, out, 1. In, out, 2.  _ He continued mumbling the words so quietly that he was sure only the quilt would hear him. Ricky stirred slightly, though he wasn’t sure if it was his counting or something else. He chose to continue counting mentally from there, however. Soon his own mind was put to rest for some time as he drifted to sleep.

-

In what only felt like a few seconds, Tinsley woke with a golden light shining down on him. He attempted to shift, only to realize that he’d somehow gotten more tangled with Ricky, slightly cursing himself. His watch was left in his coat pocket, and there was a surprising lack of clocks in the room.

He shifted as slowly as he thought his body could possibly handle, trying to make sure that the crick in his neck wasn’t going to end up too bad. He didn’t need one while he was on a horse all day, that was for certain.

He lay and watched the dust lazily float through the golden sunbeams radiating in through the window. Ricky’s presence was also comforting, in a strange way. It felt nice to wake up slowly, someone clinging to your side. To not be in a rush to get ready.

That was, until there was a knock on the door. Then a figure in the doorway.

“Tinsley, I cleaned your clothes last night and they’re still just a little damp this morning so I brought you some of Mayor’s old clothing,” Lucy walked into the room not noticing Ricky, “Breakfast is also ready.”

He held his breath and watched her walk closer and closer to the bed.

“Oh, good, Ricardo’s here too! Wake him up and I’ll find some of his travel clothes. I expect both of you down for breakfast in thirty minutes, dressed and ready for food,” she nonchalantly chirped, as if she was discussing the weather outside.

“Yes ma’am?” Tinsley squeaked, a little confusion wandering into his tone and making the statement more of a question.

“Wonderful,” she smiled, leaving only to return a few minutes later with some clothing for Ricky as well.

“We’re not-“ Tinsley tried to explain.

“Yeah right,” Lucy smirked, “Don’t try that one with me. Besides, I couldn’t care less what Ricardo does, or in this case, who he does, in his spare time.”

Her skirt swished as she walked out of the room, the smile on her face not dimmed by the rather awkward interaction.

Tinsley tried to take a moment to process, but Ricky’s muffled laughter made him whip his head directly to the figure on his left.

“Have you been awake this whole time?!” Tinsley whisper-yelled, fully sitting up in the bed.

“No, but I was awake for long enough,” Ricky snorted in reply. He got up, fully relinquishing his grip on Tinsley. Ricky got to the clothes before Tinsley, putting on his typical ‘work’ clothing, the outfit that Tinsley had first seen him in. Minus the boots, for some reason.

“So are you gonna get dressed or are these not to your liking,” Ricky quipped, holding up the deep blue shirt and beige pants before tossing them at Tinsley.

“Well they’re kind of my only option right now,” Tinsley muttered, still angry that Ricky had been fully awake for long enough to back him up.

“I can think of another option,” Ricky grinned, leaning over so that his head rested in the crook of Tinsley’s neck quieting his voice, “But my dear family might not like it so much.”

“You’re disgusting,” Tinsley joked.

“That’s not a no,” Ricky slyly told him, walking out the door.

Tinsley rolled his eyes and got the clothing on. It was a little baggy, and he did cuff the pants once, but a belt held them up against his willowy frame. He didn’t know, and he was sure he didn’t want to figure out how Mayor gained that much muscle mass.

He chose to slide on some socks before going downstairs, checking his watch for the time as he went down.  _ 8:30, still quite early. _ Tinsley winded through a couple hallways, navigating the way to the kitchen by smell, then crossing the boundary to the dining room.

“Good morning, how do those clothes fit?” Mayor questioned kindly, even giving Tinsley a small smile, “Sorry that we didn’t have anything for you, Lucy hoped that yours’d be dry by now.”

“They’re fine, for a couple hours,” Tinsley told the group.

He occupied the same spot that he had sat at last night, the chair somehow more comfortable as he relaxed into it slightly.

“What can I get for you, Tinsley?” Lucy mused, dropping a plate of pancakes down onto the table. It was quickly gone to the four bandits, who treated them like they were gold.

“I’m not much for breakfast, do you have coffee or tea?” Tinsley asked in turn.

“Yes. Coffee’s on the table, but I have some peppermint or ginger root tea as well. Just say the word for tea.”

“I’ll take you up on some peppermint please,” Mayor requested from the corner.

Nobody else spoke up for tea, all reaching for the pitcher of hot coffee in the middle of the table.

“She really likes to make things presentable, doesn’t she?” Tinsley questioned, stirring in a spoonful of brown sugar into the hot liquid.

“Yes, it’s a little odd sometimes but still appreciated,” Ricky smiled, pouring some cream into his own coffee.

The group ate their breakfast in a comfortable silence, the conversation occasionally spiking up but nobody opposed when it lulled back down. Tinsley slowly enjoyed his mug for once, not having to quickly down it in anticipation of anything happening or having to start his day as soon as he possibly could.

This time, when the meal was over, Tinsley even offered to help with dishes. Sure, part of the reason was not wanting to speak to Carlos, but Lucy also looked as if she needed the help. Mayor had chores anyhow, and the girls were spending the morning in the stables to help out with the yard chores. Ricky stalked off to the study halfway through the meal with his mug, the pancakes that had been on his plate long gone.

He was collecting the dishes when he chose to ask, “How many rooms does this place have anyway? It feels awfully large to be called a ‘lodge’.”

“My husband named it, but it has 12 rooms and 4 ‘bathrooms’. The living room, kitchen, mud room, dining area, and a bathroom are on the ground floor, but the second floor has the master bedroom, three guest rooms, Ricardo’s room, his father’s office, and the study. Two of the guest rooms share an adjoining bathroom, then Ricky’s room and the master bedroom both have private bathrooms. The third guest room has a small closet that we turned into a small ‘bathroom like’ space, so I don’t consider it to be one,” Lucy explained, helping pick up the dishes and bring them to the sink, “Now would you like to wash or dry?”

“I’ll wash, if you don’t mind,” Tinsley tentatively said, picking up the scrubber.

They fell into a rhythm quickly, washing and drying and setting the dishes in piles according to where they needed to go. Tinsley again found the silence comfortable, not in need of any sort of social interaction yet.

“So, you and Ricky huh?” Lucy smiled, wiping a plate dry.

“No, well, kind of,” Tinsley sighed, flustered at the question, “It’s complicated.”

“How so?”

“Well, until yesterday I was sure that the only feelings that I felt for him were sorrow and resentment, but recent… events have made me question that. I don’t entirely know about how I feel yet, still figuring it out as I go. However, I’m not sure where the road ahead leads if I take him with me. I’m not sure if I want to go down that road yet. It’s frustrating because he’s so twisted. I know that the road with him on it would take many more unexpected turns than I’m prepared for.”

“May I tell you something Tinsley?” Lucy softly asked, a plate clinking on top of another as she placed it down.

He nodded in response before she picked up again, “Ricardo has never been an easy person. He is stubborn, has a temper to redefine temper, and makes many decisions that decent human beings would find regrettable for years to come. He’s brash, comes across as rude if you don’t know where to listen, and makes bad enough choices to make the other people around him sigh sometimes,” Lucy began to rant before taking a deep breath herself.

“However, he is my son. And I know that there is plenty of good in him. He’s kind to the ones he loves, and would do anything to keep their good graces. He does have the decency to do some good in his heart still, and with you possibly it will flourish into more. And he loves you,” her voice slightly trembled with emotion, “I can tell it by the way he looks at you when he’s sure you’re not going to look back. It reminds me of when the sun and the moon are in the sky together. Not a match you would expect to work, as they are so opposite. But they blend, they work together to balance nature. And they see each other, eye to eye, once every day, sometimes twice.”

The two went on in silence for moments more, stretching on like an eternity, “He is the dark to your light, and you are the light to his darkness.”

“Maybe we will blend, eventually. Maybe we’ll meet in the middle. I could turn him light, he could turn me dark. There are endless possibilities to the ending of this metaphor, the cosmos as infinite and unpredictably predictable as a human mind,” Tinsley mused in return, washing off the last mug.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try, and in my experience people like you need to learn how to take more risks,” Lucy reassured, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Maybe Ricky needs to take less,” Tinsley huffed under his breath, Lucy laughing at it nonetheless, “But that reminds me, where is your husband this morning? I have some information for him.”

“Oh yes, he’s either in the study or his office. I can show you the way to the study if you’d like,” Lucy smiled again, putting the piles of dry dishes back into the cupboards where they belong.

“I’ll find it eventually, thank you though,” Tinsley politely returned.

He made his way to the office from last night first, a little bit of blood on the corner of a shelf, in the shape of a handprint. Must have been Ricky’s from last night. He sighed lightly and moved on to meet the man sitting at the desk.

“Sir? I have made my choice,” Tinsley asserted.

“Glad to hear it, sit down Tinsley, let’s talk,” Carlos smiled, a little unsettling for Tinsley’s tastes. He sat down in a chair, still as slightly uncomfortable as the last time he sat in one.

“So, before we get down to another item of business, what’s the verdict? A yes, I hope.”

Tinsley hesitated before remembering how much thought went into his choice on this matter, finally assuring Carlos verbally with a solid, “Yes. I’ll go along with this little plan of yours, as long as you let me send a message back to my deputy. He needs to know that my short journey just became longer, a lot longer. And he’ll need to know why, no excuses this time.”

“Of course, I’ll get one of my servants and best horses on it immediately,” Carlos grinned widely, his face dropping to a serious demeanor, “I know you helped Ricardo last night.”

“And why does that concern you?”

“No, it makes me curious. What is the nature of your relationship with my son? I was hoping you could further enlighten me to what you did last night, sheriff. It would be a shame if you had the same… unfortunate tendencies as Ricardo,” Carlos proposed, folding his hands on his desk.

“I helped him with his nose, checked his head, and sent him off to bed. What ‘unfortunate tendencies’ do you speak of? I’ve been meaning to ask why you threatened to send him off to Oregon State, that place is a looney bin,” Tinsley asked genuinely.

“Ah, nothing. And surely you wouldn’t have any opposition if I sent him off, you two practically hate each other. Well, you hate him, that is,” Carlos corrected himself.

“I don’t believe that anybody belongs in such a horrid place, do you know what they actually do to patients there?”

“And for what he’s being treated for? He would deserve every second of whatever they put him through,” Carlos puffed on a cigar, offering Tinsley one.

“No thank you,” Tinsley said, suspicious of Carlos and slightly appalled at the older man’s train of thought.

“I would take him out once they told me he was better, of course. Then I would even die in peace and let him inherit what he believes to be his already. But the way he’s headed he’ll be lucky to get a penny to his name when I pass away,” Carlos began to cough, hacking violently into a handkerchief that was stained red as he pulled it away.

“Tuberculosis?” Tinsley questioned, suddenly curious again.

“Yes, the damn doctor said so last month, apparently,” Carlos inhaled deeply, taking another deep drag of his cigar when he caught his breath, “That’s why I need that artifact, as soon as possible. Maybe my wife will continue my search for me, send Ricky off to Oregon State for a couple years so that he could help too eventually.”

“Not if they lobotomize him for fun,” Tinsley snapped, “It would be wise of you to keep your family away from that place, they treat humans as science experiments at every single one of those places, and for reasons that are completely dreadful.”

“So you rather me send him to a prison for his behaviors? You would probably have some good recommendations for that suggestion,” Carlos joked, smoke curling from his lips.

“Not for the reason that you are thinking, I’m sure. But no bad deed goes unpunished,” Tinsley repeated, putting his own twist on the phrase.

“It’s the other way around, but I suppose that your way could work too. With a change in the methods employed, of course. Enjoy your morning, Tinsley. You’ll be starting the journey at 1:30 sharp, so be packed and ready,” Carlos waved Tinsley out of his office, checking his own watch for the time.

Tinsley shut his mouth to prevent any further arguments from coming out, nodding and slipping out the door into the hallway. He sighed deeply as he walked the opposite way, trying to find a little bit of solace in pacing the halls for a minute or two.

Then he heard humming, coming from inside a partially closed door. The voice was familiar, the tune was not. He walked into a room that he presumed was the study as he opened the light wood door. Shelves of books surrounded the room, but the door to the balcony was surrounded by windows, half of the door glass as well. And a skylight just highlighted the natural day in the room, but lamps still waited ready for when the curtains were to be drawn closed.

Ricky sat at the desk in the room, papers and ink and pencils spread out in front of him. He hummed the tune, the unfamiliar song, while he worked, not noticing that Tinsley came into the room. Tinsley slunk around the corners of the room, making sure that Ricky wouldn’t notice him so he could try to peek at what the younger man was working on.

_ Drawings. Not just drawings, but really good ones.  _ Tinsley observed Ricky’s artwork quietly, noticing pictures of the skyline, buildings that Ricky had seen, even people that he’d likely come across on his journeys. He colored each sketch with the pencils and charcoals, occasionally adding some black ink to the images. If pictures really were worth a thousand words, he was sure that all of these were at least worth a thousand and three, because… 

“I love them,” Tinsley muttered, quietly but still loud enough to make Ricky jump in his chair, a pencil hitting the floor.

“Shit, Tins, you scared the life out of me,” Ricky breathed, going to pick up the pencil he had ‘slightly’ thrown.

“Sorry, it’s just your drawings are really good,” Tinsley commented, “They’re more lifelike than some photos I’ve seen.”

He shifted through some of the papers on the desk while Ricky was searching for the pencil, finding them organized by the type of picture they were. He only had a few out to work on, but the open folders had plenty more beautiful artwork in it. Ricky found the pencil and came back to berate Tinsley for looking at an artist's work when Tinsley suddenly came across a folded piece of paper amongst one of the folders.

“Don’t-“ Ricky exclaimed, trying to protest before Tinsley unfolded it anyway.  _ Oh, what was that saying? Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.  _ That was certainly how Tinsley felt as he opened the paper. It was  _ him.  _ Nobody had ever drawn him before. Hell, he didn’t even think that there were more photos of him than he could count on one hand. Maybe that was why Ricky was looking at him that day while he was resting, or any other time he had his paper out.

Maybe he even did it from memory, like most of these pictures seemed to be.

“It’s beautiful,” he commented, not running his fingers over the paper for fear of smudging the clearly well done definition of his facial features, from the sharp nose to the eyes that he found surprisingly softened by the wide toothy smile that split his face. His slight beard and short hair were also well captured in the charcoal. There were even a few sketches off to the side, just as pretty, of his side profile, or his resting face. Even a very rough sketch of his clothing on the second day of their journey together, “How do you do it?”

“It’s just drawing, Tinsley, nothing special,” Ricky murmured, checking which drawings he could place in folders to close up. Two had ink still shining on the page, so he ignored those as he packed the rest up, “You can even keep that one if you like it.”

“Really? It’s so well done, I wouldn’t want to impose or anything,” Tinsley blushed, eyes flicking between Ricky and the drawing.

“Yeah, not like I can’t just draw myself another,” Ricky winked, “Now why are you here?”

“Well, um, I heard you humming,” Tinsley stuttered.

“And you wanted to check out what I was doing in the study? I didn’t even notice you, congratulations on your stealth mission,” Ricky rolled his eyes, going back to the unfinished artwork on the desk, “What would you like to do?”

“You seem to have a lot of books here,” Tinsley observed, scrolling through the shelves.

“Of course you like books, why wouldn’t you like books,” Ricky muttered, an empty quill scratching against the paper to help him with some hatching in a moment, “Read any one you like, most of them are sobbing to be read at this point in time.”

“Sad that none of them have gotten the attention that they deserve,” Tinsley sighed.

“You can read every single one of them if you have time,” Ricky bit back.

“No need to be rude, I want to sit here with you and read while you draw,” Tinsley huffed.

“Well I hum while I draw sometimes, so if that’s gonna be a problem then leave.”

“Not a problem with me,” Tinsley muttered, scanning the shelves for a few moments more before stumbling upon a brand new copy of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, and he chose to ask Ricky about it.

“Why is this one brand new? The price still hasn’t been taken off,” Tinsley questioned, “And it clearly hasn’t ever been read, just look at the spine.”

“My father got it for me for my 10th birthday. He said he’d enjoyed it, and maybe I would too. I never made it past the description on the back. Too morbid for my tastes,” Ricky explained, rubbing some dark pigment across a line.

Tinsley settled down in one of the  _ very _ comfortable plush chairs on the other side of the small room, so really they were never more than 7 feet apart.

Ricky began to hum again minutes later, and when Lucy came to tell Tinsley that his clothes were dry, folded, and in his pack (as well as Ricky’s) they were both too into their work to notice her, and she left them be. It was sweet, that they could have a moment, separated by space and activity, but still together and in private. So she whispered to Mia to take their bags out to the stables, other than the clothing that she’d saved for Tinsley to slip into before they left.

“It is a good story you know,” Tinsley commented later.

“I don’t doubt it,” Ricky replied, “Though I’ve never been much of a reader, if I’m being honest.”

Tinsley paused in thought, checking the clock on the wall, “Maybe I could read it to you sometime. On a chilling October night, possibly even All Hallow’s Eve, if we dare.”

“Hell no, how about on a nice, sunny, spring or summer day,” Ricky proposed.

“My reading voice, my rules,” Tinsley triumphantly smiled.

“Damn you and your sweet words.”

“Damn you and your sudden lack of adventure.”

They fell back into the same rhythm, the only sounds in the room the turning of pages, the scratching of pens, and Ricky’s humming soon enough joined the mix. It was peaceful, a slice of the life Tinsley never thought he would ever have. A slice of the life he never thought he would enjoy. But here he was, the sound of sweet music in the air around him. Domestic bliss, as some might put it.

One in the afternoon approached the pair far too quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! You readers keep me going. As always, if you enjoyed leave a kudos or comment to hand over some serotonin. Make sure to tune in later this week for another installment, maybe it’ll be late maybe it won’t.


	8. A 5 Day’s Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tinsley begins the ‘quest’ to regain the artifact with Ricky, though he might have to figure some things out rather quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey peeps, whats good! Glad you’re tuning in this week, always nice to see you in my little hits counter (or the comments section/kudos list :) seriously those make my day) Things do get a little spicy, and I will warn that there is implied sex, so don’t pop off at me. Also: a side note, Tombstone was founded about 10 years AFTER this is set, but we’re gonna ignore that because I said so and I want a scene set in rowdy tombstone my dudes.

Tinsley and Ricky were thankfully dragged out of the study by Mayor, who had surprisingly chosen to shower right before they left. His wavy, grey hair hung in a ponytail, the gold pin nowhere to be seen.

The three made their way out to the stable, after Mayor had sent Tinsley off to change momentarily. Fran and Mia stood around in the stable, working with the stable boy to saddle up Tinsley’s horse.

“I can do that, ladies,” Tinsley politely offered, not wanting anyone to be fiddling with his things. He had always been rather possessive over that saddle, and he wasn’t going to let people start fixing his horse up for him.

“No, we’re almost done,” Francesca grinned in return, “What, don’t trust a criminal to place a saddle on your horse? You’re better alive than dead, sheriff. And I’m not that stupid. Ricky or Carlos would probably tear me limb from limb if I made you have a little ‘accident’.”

“Reassuring,” Tinsley deadpanned. Ricky had perched on a small shelf and was now pinning Mayor’s hair into a tight bun that lay directly on top of his head. The gold pin had made a return, but only momentarily until Mayor placed his own tan hat on top of it.

“Mia, did you return my cartography kit into my bag? I have the feeling that this journey will be in need of it,” Mayor drawled, mounting his own horse.

“Yes, I don’t even touch it anymore after the last time you yelled at me for it,” Mia scoffed.

“I don’t yell,” Mayor stoically stated.

Mia began to protest, but Fran clapped her on the shoulder, signaling to everyone that it was time to leave. Tinsley quickly followed suit of the bandits, who had already either mounted or were checking a bag for equipment.

Carlos came to see them off.

Tinsley resisted from guiding his horse towards Rickys, such a sign of weakness would certainly ascertain the nature of their relationship to Carlos. Which Tinsley did not need, even when Tinsley didn’t entirely know himself. He was perfectly complicit with loathing and reluctant cooperation being the only clear motives behind his presence with the crew. He only hoped that Lucy wouldn’t reveal him, which was highly unlikely. Tinsley predicted that she would go down with that secret, to protect Ricky if nothing else.

_A mother’s syrup and a father’s scorn,_ Tinsley thought to himself, _add a multitude of secrets, and that’s the foundation of lies that the Goldsworth house is built upon._ A foundation of lies and contradictions. The foundation was still quite strong, despite being made of stained glass. Easily destroyed, but somehow delicately constructed and beautifully unique in a way. Ricky’s beams were already cracking, preparing themselves to shatter and twist. Maybe they already were shattered, and he was sweeping up the mess for years before Tinsley even encountered him. Maybe he was rebuilding his house of lies. Must be quite the spectacle to see his castle shatter, a rain of color coming down to threaten the bystanders below.

“Goodbye, I do hope I’ll be seeing you soon,” Carlos said, making it sound more like a command than a request.

“Farewell, father. I would have to hope the opposite,” Ricky growled, riding along the trail a little more quickly than the rest of the group. Mia tailed him quickly, also seeming excited to leave.

Fran passed by with a glance, her face dead set into a serious expression. Maybe she was seeing the glass rain twinkling before it came all the way down. Perhaps she had already gone through a glass storm. It was likely she had at least seen one, knowing Ricky for so long made sure that you did. _Don’t go into the snake’s hole unless you are planning to get bitten. Don’t go into a glass palace without expecting to get cut._ His mind set off repeated warnings as he made his own way out of the barn.

He passed Carlos last, leaving with a tip of his hat. Ricky would have scowled. Mayor caught up with Ricky to guide their path, knowing a few different trails once they got into town again.

“Why isn’t he wearing a blindfold?” Mia stage whispered, Tinsley making no acknowledgement that he did hear her.

“To my Father, he is,” Ricky growled, still in defensive mode, “I would suggest that nobody make anything to bring the truth to light.”

“We were told to knock him unconscious about two miles back,” Mayor specified, “Ricky found that option unattractive.”

“Not like he’s doing anything that can’t get excused by _his_ lawyer,” Ricky grumbled, following Mayor closely, “How many days will this route take?”

“A little more than Four, if we make it through to the New Mexico Territory in time,” Mayor explained, leading them back through the canyon that Tinsley had been blindfolded to see. It was beautifully green compared to the dusty beiges and pale greens of the desert that he was used to. Much more foliage covered their trail, and Achilles wanted to get off the trail much more often than not to graze.

He took in the scenery in near silence, blocking out the sounds of conversation in front of him. He focused this way most of the day, and everybody seemed content not to bother him. Tinsley focused on the plants that thinned as they followed Mayor’s lead, he focused on the lizards that disappeared from the rocks that they stopped at for a rest while their horses got some wandering time. He paid attention to the way Mia braided a flower crown with little wildflowers of various shapes and sizes that she had found, slipping the band to rest on her own head. The way she made Ricky one out of California sun cups and desert globemallow to match hers.

Ricky had no protests as she slipped the simple chain onto his curls, even setting his own hat aside for an hour of the ride, putting the crown to cover the band once the heat got too much for him. Some petals were lost when Aries got a little frisky trotting down the trail. He watched as the hot orange and yellow petals fell to be stepped on by the four other horses in the group. 

When Mayor finally called that they stop for the night, finding a spot that rested off the trail, Tinsley felt relieved. Not much talking had been done that day, and he wanted to sleep the overbearing awkwardness off for at least a couple hours. The sun set on the slice of desert that they sat down on, fire soon to be their only source of light.

“Dried peaches with rice and beans, anyone?” Fran questioned, serving up their plates while the sun sank low enough for the moon to be just visible.

She was met with nods, the group continuing the silence through the meal. Tinsley enjoyed the peaches thoroughly before setting up his own space to lie down, falling quickly asleep under the full sky. He dreamt of the ocean, of the docks. He saw his father, old and grizzled like before his death. Blue eyes awaited him at the end of the docks, waves crashing as if there were a storm coming.

He woke up with the smell of salt in his nostrils.

-

The remainder of the days passed in increasing tension among the group. It didn’t display itself, but the playful banter was gone by their fourth day of riding along a dusty trail, over hills and other rocky terrain. The silence was now crushing, but none of them were left with enough stamina to talk about anything but their next meal or when the sun would stop beating down on their tired frames. Tinsley could only imagine what their horses must feel like, carrying all of their things with an added person. 

Tinsley nibbled on some dry apples at about noon that day, still processing his interaction with Ricky, though it had happened half a week ago, if not more. He had decided that he liked Ricky, but was still processing what he wished the nature of that like manifested in. Ricky was not a good person, plain and simple. But he could make the same argument about himself. The position of Sheriff did not often make him a saint to many residents of towns. He liked to think he was doing his best, however, as it was beneficial to his focus not to dwell on such negatives.

Ricky had done enough to express his interests in keeping the relationship afloat, his own tension from the first day dissolving. Tinsley thought that the farther he got from home the freer Ricky seemed to act. Like his true prison was not the idea of a typical prison at all. Maybe that was why Ricky wanted to go out in a blaze of glory, no chance of his father paying the bail to get him out.

They plodded on the trail, Mayor simply directing their course once in a while where the trail got foggy. The group hadn’t even stopped for lunch that day, wanting to get to Tombstone by tomorrow in the mid morning. Which is why, he supposed, that Mayor pushed their group until the sun was well past ¾ of the way down. Twilight covered the sky in a dusky purple faded to pink the lower you looked. Dusky blues threatened to peek out very soon, followed by the inky night sky.

Nobody cooked, and nobody said a word against it as Fran simply sliced up a loaf of sourdough out of Ricky’s pack and handed it out with more dried peaches. Mayor shared a flask with Mia, who had run out of water that afternoon. They chimed their thanks as they received their rations.

“I’ll shop for some more… options when we reach Tombstone tomorrow. I should have time before the meeting, unless we arrive a whole day later than I shall be expecting,” Mayor cringed, remembering their extremely small supply left for breakfast, “Especially coffee grounds.”

“How many miles do we have left?” Mia groaned, resting her head on Fran’s shoulder. Fran pressed a couple short kisses to Mia’s head in response.

“Ten, but they should be over mostly flat terrain,” Tinsley reasoned, he’d looked over maps with Mayor yesterday, “Well, around ten.”

“Thank god,” Fran sighed in relief, now leaning into Mia for mutual support. She took Mia off a few feet to fall asleep, both of them clearly needed the rest. Mayor followed a few minutes after, and Tinsley made a move to follow him.

“Wait,” Ricky whispered.

“What do you want?” Tinsley questioned, equally quiet.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep well yet, will you tell me some of those constellations you were speaking about?”

Tinsley took a deep breath in and out, considering the proposition. _He could do that, at the very least._

“Why not,” was his eventual response as he sat down by Ricky, his space quickly invaded by the smaller man. Not that he minded, he was just tired. _Like everyone else in the group._

Tinsley took a deep breath, searching the sky for the familiar patterns plotted in the sky. Stars were splattered across the sky, bright as ever with the half moon illuminating the sky. The milky way rested lower in the sky, splashing some dull color difference in the spilled ink. His hand rubbed comforting circles onto Ricky’s back as he searched.

“There’s Draco, the dragon,” Tinsley pointed, tracing a triangle and a line of adjoining stars with his free hand. Ricky pressed even closer to let his eyes travel the same path as Tinsley’s index finger in the sky.

“That’s just a shape and a line,” Ricky sighed, “But I suppose it does look somewhat like a dragon, if you stripped them down to the basic shape.”

“If you’re going to complain I’m going to stop,” Tinsley threatened, stopping the hand on Ricky’s lower back.

“No, go on.”

“Fine, well there’s also Hercules. You know that myth, right?” Tinsley asked, searching for the boxy shape, “That’s why him and Hercules are so close to each other.”

He found the constellation, letting Ricky follow his tracing of the stars once again, “The story says that Hercules had to defeat Draco to get the Golden Apples of Hesperides.”

“Why did he have to get the apples? I’ve never heard that one,” Ricky asked quietly, his head still resting on Tinsley’s upper arm.

“I’ll tell you the whole story. Hercules was asked to do ten labors by Eurystheus, who was the king of the Tiryns, as payment for killing his own children. He had completed ten of these feats that were considered to be impossible for any man to follow through, and thought he was done. Though the deal was originally for ten, Eurystheus argued that two of his tasks were done improperly, so he ordered Hercules to do two more. The eleventh task, to get the Golden Apples of Hesperides from the garden at the northern edge of the world,” he began, trying to keep the myth simple. Ricky nodded, blinking his eyes a few times to keep them open.

“Hercules had no idea where to start. He had no clue where this garden was located, so he began his journeys all over the earth to find it. Along his path, he ran into Kyknos, son of Aries, who demanded that he fight him. Hercules accepted the challenge, and the two fought until a thunderbolt separated the fight.”

“Why does Zeus care again?” Ricky asked eagerly, “I do know the basic gods.”

“Hercules is his half son. But that isn’t part of the story tonight. So he moves on and finds a sea god, trying to get the information he needs. Nereus tries to escape over and over, but Hercules eventually gets something out of him. On the way back Hercules also fights Anataeus, son of Poseidon, and Busiris, also a son of Poseidon.”

“This guy gets in a lot of fights,” Ricky joked.

“Reminds me of someone I know,” Tinsley deadpanned, “Do you want to finish the story or save it for another day?”

“No, go on. I sense that you want to finish it too.”

“Okay. He travels to meet Prometheus, who was a trickster. Prometheus had stolen the secret of fire from the gods, so they punished him to be chained to a rock and get his liver eaten every day.”

“Ouch,” Ricky cringed.

“Yeah, but Hercules killed the eagle that was supposed to do that on his visit, so as a vote of thanks he took Hercules to Atlas, who could get the apples for Hercules. Atlas, however, was a little preoccupied holding up the weight of the world. So he and Hercules had to switch places for him to get the apples,” Tinsley was beginning to get a little too tired to finish.

He took a few deep breaths, matching his breathing pattern to Ricky’s, “Atlas tried to trick Hercules too, telling him that he could take the apples to Eurystheus instead. Hercules agreed, but then slyly asked if Atlas would hold the world for a moment while he put some padding upon his shoulders so he could hold the burden for just a little longer. Atlas left the apples on the ground, and just after they had swapped places, Hercules ran away and gave the apples to Eurystheus himself. But the apples could only be held by the gods anyways, so he had to return them to Athena in the end.”

“Damn, bet he wanted to punch this guy a lot,” Ricky mumbled sleepily, his heat radiating onto Tinsley.

“You’re warm,” Tinsley commented without thinking.

“Sorry,” Ricky spoke with a little more clarity, making a move to go away. Tinsley pulled him back and lifted Ricky to stand alongside him.

“No, I don’t mind it. But you do need some sleep, so I suppose this is where we part for the night.”

“Goodnight Tins,” Ricky murmured, shakily walking towards his space.

“Night,” Tinsley murmured to nobody in particular.

-

“Night, I’m sure he’s fine,” Deputy McClintock reassured for what seemed like the millionth time. Everyone was asking where Tinsley had gone seemingly nonstop since he left.

“But you told me that a _bandit_ took him, a bandit who isn’t very sparing to people like Tinsley. Shouldn’t we be trying to get him back?” he ran a hand through his hair, Legs rubbing his back comfortingly. He’d been known as Legs for a couple days now, nobody wanting to correct themselves if they did know his real name. Apparently what happened in the Rattlesnake spread like wildfire.

“Hey, I’m sure Tinsley can handle himself. He’s very competent. Deputy McClintock seems to know what he’s doing as well,” he soothed, “Why don’t we go get a drink?”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good i-“ Banjo began, getting cut off with a sudden opening of the door to his left.

“Message for Deputy McClintock,” a younger man gruffly asked, red cloth covering half of his face.

“From?” the three men asked at once.

“Sheriff Tinsley.”

“I’ll take that from you,” Banjo scrambled to the door, snatching the letter out of the man's hands, “Thanks.”

He left with a nod, leaving the other three to tear open the letter for a message. Banjo placed it on the counter for the three of them to read, the two shorter members of the group hovered over by Legs.

_Deputy McClintock,_

_Hope you have been well. Tell Night I’m fine, and I am really okay. I got caught up in an errand, but I have managed to escape the bandits. A citizen had a problem they needed solving. I should be back by the 24th of July, two and a quarter weeks from when I am sending this. If I do not return by then, you are to take my place officially. Have a lovely day, and get yourself a drink tonight. My treat._

_Best Wishes,_

_Sheriff Tinsley_

“Bastard could’ve sent that faster,” Night muttered. There was money attached for the drink, and Banjo took the dime out of the package and held it gently, turning it over a couple times.

“At least we know he’s safe, I think,” Legs added.

“I’m not entirely sure that he is,” Banjo muttered, observing the dime, “That didn’t sound like he usually would.”

“We can worry about that when he doesn’t return by his date,” Legs firmly asserted.

“I need a drink,” Night sighed.

-

“I need a drink,” Ricky huffed.

They had arrived in town a couple minutes ago, and Mayor was currently checking them into their inn. Mia and Fran perked up at the mention of alcohol, and Tinsley simply nodded. Ricky ran out of cigarettes that morning too, so he was a little cranky without his morning smoke.

“I think we should do a night out,” Fran suggested, “If you can manage not to get three sheets in the wind, Ricky.”

“I agree,” the Mayor turned to them, “We do have a meeting though, so I will only have a drink with you guys. I also have errands to run.”

The girl at the counter overheard their conversation, “Mind if me and my beau make it a triple date? I’ve been looking for the opportunity to get out for so long. He doesn’t ever want to go out just the two of us though.”

_It was a little odd of her to just cut in like that_ , Tinsley thought. Mia, on the other hand, lit up.

“Of course you can join us! Want to get ready together? I have the cutest dress and it would look _spectacular_ with your eyes!” she rambled.

“Who’s the guy?” Fran asked, “I can do your hair if you’d like.”

“Oh, Fran is the BEST at doing hair,” Mia nodded.

“Really? Y’all are so kind,” she questioned, in shock that Mia had let her in so easily.

“How’s about you guys use our room to get ready,” Ricky asked Mia, giving her a pat on the shoulder, “We’ll go for drinks and dinner at 5.”

“I get off at 3, so I’ll come over at around 3:30. Billy will want me to check in and tell him about the plan for tonight. Name’s Marianne, by the way,” Marianne clarified, waving them off, “Now you nice folk get yourself settled.”

Mayor took his bag to his room, dropping it off before taking Fran to get supplies for a couple days. They would go again before they travel. Ricky went to go ask the stable boy about renting out what would equal out to be half their barn. Ten minutes later, Ricky and Tinsley were both desaddling their horses and placing their equipment accordingly to where the stable boy directed them. He had settled back to do his chores in the hayloft, shifting around some bags of feed and taking down hay for the three horses in the stable. Ricky quickly finished his own horse and moved onto Mia’s.

Once the stable boy was out of earshot, Tinsley spoke, “It’s smart of you, only renting three rooms.”

“Mayor’s idea, my expansion. He thought we could surely cut costs from renting four beds out, and I figured that they charge less for couples. So we buy two singles and a queen. Mia and Fran like sleeping in the same bed, and Mayor and I like giving them privacy,” Ricky explained.

“Does that mean we’re sharing a bed tonight?” Tinsley quietly asked, noticing the stable boy returning. Ricky finished up placing Mia’s reins and bridle over a hook.

“Let’s head back, thank you Eli,” Ricky replied, continuing once they were out of earshot, “It’s me or Fran, you make the choice,” he winked.

Tinsley raised an eyebrow quizzically, Ricky responded with a sly smirk, “I’ll make the choice easy for you, promise.”

“Oh, so now you’re making promises?” Tinsley joked.

“You keep secrets, I keep promises.”

Tinsley returned to his room, which now had Ricky’s bag in the corner instead of Fran’s. His hat also graced one of the chairs. _Conjoined powder room,_ he noticed, _that’s how he moved so quickly._

He read a few passages of a book he’d stolen from Ricky’s home, about knights and crusades and damsels in distress. Not his favorite, if he was being honest. It seemed more of a romantic novel, but anything was better than being dragged into helping the girls get ready.

He himself only changed vests and pants, ditching his dusty coat. Ricky had taken the liberty of dusting his hat as well as Tinsley’s, so his hat was marginally cleaner as well.

He got called down by Mayor, who had a french braid in his hair now, likely due to Fran. Mayor was wearing his casual ensemble, including the dusty coat. But Mayor was practical, if nothing else, not flashy like his other comrades. Tinsley was taught to toe the line, presentable but practical.

He noticed Mia in a white dress smattered with a flower pattern that cut off at the elbows, her hair only half up. Her brown boots looked lovely peeking out from where the dress came to rest at her mid calf. Fran was wearing a pair of slacks with a red candy stripe shirt, black belt slung around her waist with a full holster. Her hair was done up into a bun. 

Their ‘guests’ were dressed fairly as well, Billy looking like he just got off of work at a law firm, Marianne in a maroon dress that cinched in at the waist with a belt that looked darker than black. Her sleeves wandered all the way down the arm, and were tied off with small black lace gloves. Strange for the season, but Tinsley would admit that it looked very well put together. Mia had done a very complex series of braids that covered the back of her head, her hair flowing down at the base of her neck.

Mia waved at him with a white gloved hand, lacy white decorating each finger and her palm, cutting off at her wrist. He walked down the stairs, boots creaking some of the steps. Mayor had blocked his view of Ricky, and _oh shit he did make it easy._

He didn’t know how Ricky managed to fit three full sets of clothing into his bag, but now he didn’t regret it. Soft grey wool slacks were paired with a plain white shirt and deep emerald vest, His golden watch chain poking out and accenting the richness of the green with three gold buttons. A black boot tapped impatiently, he looked back up to Ricky’s face.

“You ready to go?” he asked.

“Yes, if my lovely lady is ready,” he teased, offering Fran his arm.

The group made their way over to a local bar and eatery that Marianne had recommended. They were seated at a larger table, Mayor at the head with boys on one side, girls on the other.

“So what are your names again?” Billy asked politely, “I didn’t catch all of them.”

“Mia, Francesca, Ricky, Tinsley, and I’m Mayor,” Mayor listed off each name.

“Can't choose if Tinsley or Mayor is a stranger name, those should be easy to remember,” he chuckled.

“Tinsley’s my last name,” Tinsley defended.

“And Mayor’s a nickname, but I suggest you respect it.”

“Yes sir,” Billy nervously nodded as their waitress handed out short menus.

Tinsley tuned out the conversation, only chiming back in to order or talk about something that _wasn’t couples related._

They were served eventually, and the conversation dulled quite a bit as they all settled to enjoy their meals. The food was fine, but Tinsley was really looking forward to the drinks that night. He managed to stay out of the conversation for the most part, Fran making up for his lack of it.

Billy eagerly led Tinsley and a more reluctant Ricky to the bar. He didn’t seem to be enjoying the girls conversation as much as Ricky or Mayor was either. He quickly ordered a round of whiskey. _Damn, he wants to get intoxicated almost as much I do,_ Tinsley mentally chuckled, watching him slam back three fingers of whiskey.

Tinsley knew he could deal with a light hangover, so he calculated that he could have four drinks, five if they were weaker.

Ricky got started almost as quickly as Billy, but he skipped on the second round of whiskey. Tinsley noticed that he cringed when he drank the first one.

The sun sank lower and lower into the sky, and soon not a drop of sunlight illuminated the bar. Ricky had slowed down his consumption rate, but Tinsley could tell that he wanted to keep going.

“So, have you made your choice yet? Me or Fran?” he asked, the music from the piano surprisingly loud paired with the chatter of the other patrons.

“Honestly, not sure yet,” Tinsley flushed, not wanting to give Ricky what he was looking for.

Ricky leaned into the crook of his neck, the hot air of Ricky’s breath making Tinsley want to shiver, “Well I’ve made my choice. And it involves you a fair amount.”

Tinsley decided to ignore the way that that statement made him feel, continuing to lightly sip at his drink. This was his second of the night, and it was the house beer that Bill had ordered them nearly thirty minutes ago.

Ricky was on his fifth or sixth when Tinsley had decided to cut him off. Mayor was ‘babysitting’ the other two members of the group while also chatting the pianist into letting him play too. The girls were drinking and dancing, Billy looking concerned at Ricky.

“You sure your friend is okay? Maybe we should get the girls and go,” he asked, returning from a short dance with Marianne.

“No, no need to spoil their fun,” Ricky slightly slurred, “I’m sure Tinsley here could escort me to the inn and come back for the girls! Then they could get a few more dances in, eh?” Ricky winked, gesturing to Marianne, “I’m sure she would love it, quite romantic. Ask Mayor to play a slower song, requested by Ricky.”

“I like the way you think, Ricky,” he smirked, walking back onto the dance floor.

Tinsley rolled his eyes as he finished the last few swallows of his drink. It was enough that he felt the pleasant warmth in his stomach, but nowhere near enough.

But he had to stop Ricky from a dionysian level of intoxication, ‘three sheets’ as Fran had called it. So he helped Ricky up to his feet, where he stumbled a few steps before getting the hang of it. Tinsley still stood by his side as a crutch if he were to need it, but surprisingly Ricky only wobbled a little bit as he walked.

They got a few blocks into their journey when Ricky pulled him into an alleyway, wrapping his arms around Tinsley’s neck as he murmured, “Alone at last, Sheriff.”

He then attempted to kiss Tinsley, but Tinsley broke Ricky’s grip and slung his own arm around Ricky’s shoulders. Ricky looked hurt, but Tinsley wasn’t sorry. They couldn’t keep kissing in alleyways like the technical first one, too public. Especially for a place like Tombstone, with a very much alive nightlife. 

Tinsley walked them home quickly and quietly, Ricky seemingly too discouraged to continue conversation. He let Ricky go in first, head still hung in discouragement, and decided to have a quick deep breath. Though it pained him to restrain himself that much, it really was no great feat. Marianne and Billy even passed him by as he stood on the porch, and they informed him that the other three were still having a grand time, and said they wouldn’t be home ‘til half past midnight.

“Go get your woman, Tinsley!” Billy shouted encouragingly as they left. Tinsley let out a chuckle and nodded. Maybe not his _woman,_ but he’d certainly be getting someone that night. He clambered up the stairs to find Ricky sitting in the hallway, a melancholy look penetrating his face.

Tinsley scooped him up, forcing Ricky to walk alongside him.

“CC, what are you-“ Ricky questioned, before Tinsley cut him off by twirling him inside their room, shutting the door, and forcefully pinning him against it.

Ricky further let out a small yelp as Tinsley slotted a knee in between Ricky’s own, entrapping his lips into a deep kiss for a few moments before tearing away, his voice low as he spoke, “Is this what you wanted? For me to pin you up against the wall and let you choke on your words while I kiss your breath away?”

“Among other things,” Ricky quietly whined, craving the sensation of Tinsley’s lips on his again.

“I don’t know,” Tinsley pondered, “You weren't very patient, or polite with me tonight.”

“Ple-p-plea,” Ricky stuttered, Tinsley shifting his knee slightly.

“What?”

Ricky barely even whispered it, fully collapsed against Tinsley, “Please.”

That was all it took for Tinsley to quickly recapture Ricky’s lips again, slipping his tongue into Ricky’s very willing mouth. He tasted of an appley liquor, with a slight dash of gin. The whiskey taste he’d expected was all but gone to the other flavors. Ricky tried to grab the back of his head, to pull them closer together. Tinsley responded by grabbing his wrists and placing them above his head, now pinned onto the wall too.

Ricky broke the kiss, Tinsley making a low noise of displeasure. He nipped at Tinsley’s jawline, Tinsley’s pupils were blown wide, almost all the whiskey brown gone to the black. He quickly set his other hand on Ricky’s waist, sliding it up and down his side. 

Ricky’s tongue traced a line from Tinsley’s earlobe down his jaw, stopping at the middle where he quickly freed one of his hands to pull Tinsley down the last few inches he needed to crash their lips together again. Tinsley made no protest to the warm softness of Ricky’s lips, and he took Ricky’s bottom lip into his mouth. His hand traced from Ricky’s hip to his vest, shifting his knee again on purpose.

It drew a low moan from Ricky as he worked on unbuttoning Ricky’s vest, and then his shirt. Tinsley then pressed a low kiss to the corner of Ricky's jaw, taking his hand under the loose garments to rub Ricky’s chest.

“I’m going to release your other hand, and you’re going to slide these off before I tear them off of you,” he whispered.

Ricky vigorously nodded, sliding the two garments carelessly off, Tinsley letting him shift so that they hit the floor. Tinsley went directly for the collarbones to start, lightly peppering kisses across them. He pressed more long, slow kisses onto scars and chest before his marks made their way up to his neck, where Ricky became more vocal than Tinsley would have liked.

“ _Can’t have us out of the inn, now can you?”_ Tinsley panted, “Quiet before I drop you here and go sleep on the chair in the other room.”

“Oh my sweet sheriff,” Ricky breathed in return, pulling Tinsley’s ear close again, “You seem to forget that you need this just as much as I do.”

Tinsley dropped Ricky off of the wall, noticing the peppering of marks across Ricky’s neck and chest. _Had he really done all that?_

“You said ‘among other things’ earlier. What ‘other things’?” Tinsley smirked, watching Ricky fumble for a moment before regaining his own cool confidence. His gaze landed upon the bed, his fists in Tinsley’s lapels.

“Let me show you,” he muttered, smirking as he kissed Tinsley once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad you read this, hope you enjoyed, and make sure to drop a kudos or comment if you did. Love all of you cuties, and as always make sure to tune in next week!


	9. Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the adventure, or Tinsley thinks so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey besties, hope you enjoy! I’ll post again this next weekend for sure. ALSO: that is a projection for how many chapters this is gonna be. It could go up or down depending on my word counts and how I cut this up.

The morning passed by quickly for Tinsley, an odd tension in the group. Mayor was unusually somber, even for himself. Mia barely spoke a word, and Ricky, well he seemed unaffected by the mood, if Tinsley was being perfectly honest.

He was cranky in the early morning, when the sun shined on him resting off his raging hangover, but a morning cigarette put him in a slightly better mood. Not to say that his head wasn’t still throbbing, Tinsley knew, but a better mood was a better mood. They saddled up to go off somewhere in the silver filled hills outside of town, Ricky humming as they rode.

Tinsley trotted up to him, a question popping into his mind; “Ricky, after this, what are you going to do? About us, I mean.”

Ricky sighed, stopping his cheery tune, “Why do we need to have this conversation now?”

“I don’t know, because you’re wanted in the state of California and basically every stretch of territory west of Texas? Because I have no idea what’s going to happen to the people in your path after this? Because I don’t even know what path you’re going to take after this?” Tinsley exclaimed, rapid firing his worries. They bounced right off Ricky, seemingly, his smile only slightly dimmed by Tinsley’s original query. How infuriating.

“Well, you should have thought about that before you kissed back,” Ricky nonchalantly shrugged, “I’ll tell you the answers to the other ones when I figure that out for myself.”

“How encouraging.”

“Not all of us have job security, Tinman,” Ricky smiled, “I can’t just do this for the rest of my days, you know.”

“Yes, your kind either go off in a blaze of glory and bullets or find themselves at the end of a noose,” Tinsley asserted, “A fate I do not wish for you, for whatever reason.”

“I could just run away to Mexico, or the East coast. Steal all this money and just walk away,” he gestured to the case still in his saddlebag, “You’d be welcome to come, of course. My own little slice of paradise.”

“Is that really what you want? A slice of paradise? Domestic bliss?” Tinsley questioned, surprised.

“Of course I would want to continue having adventures, though they may not take illegal turns nearly as often. But yes, a settled life would suit me I think. I’ve been moving so often that my feet are about to fall off,” Ricky chuckled, “Maybe this will be my last adventure, my last errand as my father’s son.”

“Could you do that to your mother? She seems to care about you quite a lot.”

“Oh I don’t know. I may let my location be known once I’m sure of my father’s demise,” Ricky huffed, “But I do not want my paradise tainted by any hatred, save my own.”

“It could be quite lonely, for a paradise,” Tinsley muttered.

“Ah, well, these are all words anyway. My hopes for my future often do not come to fruition, if you haven’t noticed. And you? Where will you be after this?”

“I suppose, if you haven’t guessed already, I’ll return to my post as Sheriff. I will continue to perform my duties, travel around and be an advocate for justice in moments of conflict, collect taxes, etcetera etcetera.”

Ricky paused for a few moments before adding, “Sounds boring.”

“What, too domestic for you? The thought of living in one place, one area for the rest of your life?” Tinsley questioned, a smirk painted across his lips.

“No, too goody-two-shoes. Doing the same thing, for the rest of your life, with no variation whatsoever,” Ricky sighed, “Sounds awfully lonely, your life.”

“I’ve got friends, like yours. Not all of us can go town to town and choose whatever pretty face we want,” Tinsley argued, “I’m not as lonely as you think.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty,” Ricky teased, one of his hands now extended to his right. He quickly pointed with two fingers to the left, waving it thrice. Mayor left their train, trotting far to the direction Ricky had gestured.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that he is excused from this mission,” Ricky explained, “I need him to cover another one of our assets.”

“Do you really have that much confidence in my ability to play peacemaker?” Tinsley raised his voice, a little more than he meant to.

Mia chimed from ten feet back, riding alongside Fran, “Well we have confidence in your ability to control Ricky. You’re doing great so far.”

“Is that the real reason why I’m even here? Babysitting?”

“Of course not,” Fran glared at Mia, “It’s just an added bonus. For us, anyway. And I think that Ricky and I both agree that you have proven to be an excellent peacekeeper. Your citizens seem to love you, and for good reasons.”

“What my companions seem to be forgetting is that we have multiple reasons to be here,” Ricky cut back in, irritated, “Which means that sometimes our numbers will be divided. I’m sure that Tinsley will be more than proficient at making sure that there’s no weapons drawn, and he’ll do that without being called a babysitter again. I’m a grown adult, I do what I please. He’s not meant to keep me in check.”

“Alright,” Mia snarked, rolling her eyes.

They rapidly approached a small grouping of tents that appeared over the ridge of a hill. Ricky led them down the hill, slipping his cloth back over his mouth. His glare was back, intimidating but cool. This was more serious than Tinsley had anticipated, he reasoned, as he watched a similar gaze fall on not only Fran’s face, but Mia’s as well. The Mayor was undoubtedly off on other business, his horse not anywhere near the tents.

“Ah, Mr. Goldsworth. So glad you could make it to our meeting,” an old man spoke, spectacles glinting in the light, “I am sorry that Carlos will not be joining us today.”

“I am not. Where’s the artifact, Fear?” Ricky responded harshly, stepping off of his horse but still holding the reins in an iron grip.

“See, Carlos is much more well mannered. And you are too, when you’re around him. Where’s the small talk? I’m sure daddy dearest would be disappointed in your choice in conversation.”

“I see no need for small talk when I am here for an item of which rightfully belongs to me,” Ricky glowered, tying his horse to a post. Tinsley soon followed suit, but Mia and Francesca stayed mounted, almost guarding the situation.

“Your family,” Fear corrected, “And more specifically, your father. Not you.”

“My father was too cowardly to show his face today, and as his first and only son, I believe I have just as much right to call the artifact mine,” Ricky smiled, his politeness as fake as Tinsley’s quickly fading sense of calm.

“Let’s just agree to get to business, shall we?” Tinsley interjected, “I am quite curious to see how this transaction will play out.”

“And you might be?” Fear smiled, shaking Tinsley’s hand as a greeting, “I had no idea Ricky was adding males to his…  _ group. _ ”

“Oh, I’m afraid you misunderstood my intentions here. I am Sheriff Tinsley. Carlos sent me here because he did not trust Ricardo with such an important transaction,” Tinsley explained coolly.

“Well, nice to meet you sheriff. I think you will find my security to be more than capable of taking care of people like Ricardo Goldsworth,” Fear smiled genuinely, opening the flap to a canvas tent. “Come in, come in.”

Ricky, Tinsley could tell, was already a simmering pot, about to boil over at a moment’s notice.

“Well?” Ricky stated, his voice as strained as his shoulders were tensed.

“Well what?” Fear nonchalantly examined the table.

“The artifact, where is it?” Ricky sighed, rubbing his temple.

“Ah, payment first, my dear boy,” Fear smirked.

“All 250 dollars,” Ricky placed the case that Tinsley didn’t even notice he had on the table, “In cash.”

“You won’t mind if my lovely secretary Margaret counted that for me?” Fear questioned, “You’re welcome to a drink as she does so.”

“Why would I want anything out of you?” Ricky sharply replied, whereas Tinsley nodded slightly and asked for some water.

“Jane, fetch the Sheriff-

“No, he’ll be okay,” Ricky cut him off, shutting up Tinsley’s protests with a wave of his hand.

“Fine, well I suppose I could always entertain you with a story, or maybe some fun facts about what you’re purchasing,” Fear nearly rolled his eyes, “Since you are choosing to be such horrible company.”

“Sit, unless Carlos has told you all the details of what you are about to receive,” Fear gestured to a set of cushions on the floor, of which Tinsley and Ricky quickly took to, though the latter was much more reluctant and irritated to do so.

“This ring, in my hand, can prove that it is Carlos, and his side of the family, has all claim to the Winnifred family estate. The argument for ownership started years ago, when Ricardo’s grandfather died. Miss Winnifred, his latest bride and mother to a nearly seventeen year old son, took claim of the house by the lawyer’s recommendation. She noted that the late Mr. Goldsworth didn’t have his ring on, his ring which in the will dictated the division of the property. Whoever got the ring got it all. It was ‘lost to time’ as she put it in her official statement, but she really had it mailed off to her sister and pawned it in Alabama. Carlos, who was twenty six at the time of his father’s death, searched for the ring that would have been rightfully his, as the oldest son. He searched for the proof that it was his, all of it. As a diligent researcher and part time archeologist, it wasn’t hard to dig up the ring and purchase it from a young man who had broken an engagement with it long ago.”

“You can imagine his devastation when he wasn’t able to find it for years,” Ricky chimed in, “And his rage at his lifelong scramble to find it. Took him a loveless marriage and a ‘disappointment’ of a son to find it, after years of his life wasted. Right before his own death, he solves the mystery of his life.

“How sad,” Fear mused, “that said disappointing son will be the one stealing it all away, unless he decides to disinherit you as a final surprise. That would be peaches and cream, wouldn’t it?”

Tinsley cut back into the conversation, reminding himself that he can’t let Ricky get out of hand. Ricky had nearly jumped up out of his seat if it wasn’t for Tinsley’s hand on his knee. If he pulled any stupid shit, that little ring would likely go in a pocket and a gun would be pulled on them instead. Probably multiple guns, judging by his luck.

“Is Margaret done counting?”

“Yes, I believe so,” Margaret cut in herself, holding the case in front of her.

“Good, Tinsley murmured, turning towards the door, “Ricky, retrieve the ring, and we should be on our way.”

A sharp pain was felt at the base of his skull as the world faded to black quickly, the ground being the final destination for Tinsley’s unconscious frame.

-

“What was that for?” Fear simply asked, as if Ricky didn’t just knock someone unconscious with a weapon now trained on him.

“You sound so surprised, did you forget that you’re a prick and that I hate you?” Ricky responded quickly, pulling a second weapon out just in case, “I would want an innocent to have deniability, in case I ever get to be held accountable for my multiple heinous actions.”

“Well, I can say that without your father here, I did expect something, which is why,” Fear pulled his own pistol out from the cushion he was sitting on, “You should have considered my response.”

“Checkmate,” Ricky smiled, “It seems that I may have underestimated you, doctor.”

“I’m not just the archeologist that came over to talk to your father, am I?” Fear was sporting a similar smirk, “But before you make any rash decisions with your manners, I would advise you to take a step back and turn around. I won’t shoot, of course.”

_ Tinsley. _ “I don’t think I need to turn my back on you to know that the Sheriff is likely at gunpoint, if not conscious again.”

“Ah, no surprising someone like you I suppose,” Fear shrugged, cocking his gun.

“Well, I would have loved to dispose of you today, but it seems that I have to revert to a different plan,” Ricky cooly returned. 

“Which would be? I hope it is beneficial to the both of us, at the very least.”

“I would have loved to give my father the sick satisfaction of my demise, but recent conversations have led me to think that there is a better option,” Ricky explained, “I’ll leave you with a message and the cash, if you’ll give me the ring. You would also get to live, which for a little cockroach like you would be a major bonus.”

“But what’s stopping Margaret from killing your Sheriff if you shoot me? What will stop me from ending you in my last moments?” Fear questioned, giving his revolver a little shake for emphasis.

“Nothing. But you won’t get the satisfaction of seeing the pain of death on my face. And you die knowing that you shot a random man to do nothing but condemn a woman.”

Fear paused, mulling over the offer, “I suppose I will lend you an ounce of trust. Why do you want the ring, and better yet; why have  _ me  _ send a message to your father?”

“I suppose he won’t react well to his son running away with his life goal in, or rather  _ on  _ hand,” Ricky smiled widely, almost painfully. Fear cringed slightly at the unnatural sight.

“So I still get the money?”

“Of course, but I would recommend getting away after I give it to you. That would be just about the last piece of sanity my father will have after losing to me of all people. Send a messager you wouldn’t mind losing, too,” Ricky had to hold back laughter, trying to restore at least an ounce of the previous somber nature in the room.

“Okay,” Fear quickly countered.

“What?”

“You didn’t suspect my answer to come so quickly, did you? Well, I’ll have it be known that the West is a tiring and disgusting place, I much rather think that I belong in the city-

“In a museum, more like it,” Ricky snickered under his breath.

“Ignoring that entirely unprofessional interruption. The city is much more to my tastes, and I think that this will be quite the nice starter on a new life. I’m ready to cut ties with this insect infested, dusty land of dreamers. The ring that you so desperately cling to isn’t worth more than ten dollars anyhow, so I think that I am catching quite the steal, wouldn’t you say?”

“I would have to agree. To devastating my father, then,” Ricky did a mock toast with his revolver, “And a fresh start for the bad doctor.”

“But you must give me a head start as well. Your sniper wasn’t around to greet me, and I fear that he is part of your odd backup plan,” the archeologist replied.

“Fine,” Ricky spat, “You’re quite perceptive for an old man.”

“Lower your weapons on three, and I’ll make the transaction without a further fuss.”

“I suppose if this is the best deal that you are willing to give me,” Ricky sighed, lowering his pistols without a count, “Then I’ll send Mia with this ‘Jane’ to call off Mayor.”

_ He would  _ not  _ be calling off Mayor, in fact. Simply sending Mia off to dump Jane in town with a wad of cash and disposing of Fear anyway, the second he reached a mesa on his route. _

“Jane darling, go with the dark haired lady outside, I want you to make sure that he actually calls off his sniper. Take this, too,” he tossed a full on rifle across the room into Jane’s willing hands. He then turned his attention back to Ricky, “And the Sheriff?”

“I see no reason why he cannot return to his town, oblivious to our interaction.”

“Well, seeing as how you left the case on the table, all nice and pretty for me, catch,” Fear tossed the ring as if he was flipping a penny over to Ricky, clasping the case back shut and sauntering off, “Margaret! Grab our horses, the rest will clean up. And hand Mr. Goldsworth some of your smelling salts, please. It would simply not do to have him or his company here for any longer than necessary.”

“Thank you, doctor. Have a safe journey,” Ricky nodded, retrieving the small vial from Fear’s assistant. 

“And the message for your father?”

“I got the ring. Now I’ll be leaving. How does it feel, bastard, to be outfoxed by a failure? hugs and kisses, Ricky. Post Script: Tell mamá I love her and I’m sorry. I’ll visit come Christmas time, if your obituary is published by then.”

Margaret finished scribbling that down before going to escape with Fear.

He let them go before opening the vial and lifting it to Tinsley’s nose. He hoped they would work, he didn’t know that they would if the person was forcefully knocked unconscious. To be honest, he didn’t even have much experience using them.

Tinsley let out a gasp, sitting up quickly.

“Woah, woah there Tinman, lie back down for a second,” Ricky warned, kneeling beside where Tinsley had been previously lying.

“What the fuck?”

“Language,” Ricky chided.

“No, why did you knock me out? Where’s Fear? Ricky I swear to god if you-“ Tinsley rambled, continuing to lift himself onto his feet.

“Take a deep breath, sit back down. I was going to do what you think I did, but an alternate opportunity arose. I got the ring, he got the money, we both got our lives. Happy?”

“Not to be crude, but I don’t trust your recollection of the event,” Tinsley groaned, rubbing the back of his head.

“I suppose that is fair, but there is no blood, or bodies.”

“Fine. Well where’s the ring? Your father-“

“My father is out of the equation now, don’t you see Tinman? This is my ticket, my one chance for escape. Once I get my hands on the estate, nobody can question that it isn’t mine. I have the birth certificate, last name, and ring to prove it.”

“Well, since you seem to have that all planned out, I wish you the best. I will be returning to my calling as Sheriff. I want to go home,” Tinsley decided, “And it seems that you have a home to return to now as well.”

“But you could come with me. I  _ need _ -“

“No, you need to give me space. Ricky, we shouldn’t even be-“ Tinsley paused, thinking, “well whatever the hell we are. I have a calling, to protect those in need of a protector. Don’t make me choose between you and a job. Please, can we be civil about this?”

“But you  _ promised.  _ You promised to be there for me, to not leave me alone. You promised to tell me about the stars, told me that you’d read stories to me. I thought you were different, that you actually did care to stay. I still need you,” Ricky’s voice was beginning to crack.

“I never promised you anything. You’re not alone anymore,” Tinsley sighed, “Our adventure is over. I helped you break free. Now go slither off.”

“I know you still love me, I know you do,” Ricky whispered, “Please.”

“No, Ricky. I have to go home. Goodbye, you know where to find me if you want to get a drink sometime,” Tinsley muttered, making his escape with slow steps, then riding off past Tombstone. Tears streaked his own face until nightfall, where he stopped somewhere in the desert, on a path back to California. He’d reach a border boomtown in a few days.

_ I have to go home _ , that’s what he kept reminding himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love y’all, thanks for tuning in. Make sure to leave a kudos or comment if you are enjoying! Have a lovely week, and make sure to tune in next time!


	10. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tinsley would rather forget what Ricky is trying to keep fresh in his mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey besties, sorry this is late again. Ahaha, hope you enjoy!

“Ricky?” Fran toed her way into the master bedroom of what was now the restored Goldsworth estate, stepping into the space carefully.

The space surprisingly did not smell as strongly of alcohol as the last time she attempted to reach out to their boss. Alas, she’d lost the card game of who had to reach out yet again, Mia easily surpassing her and defending the two younger members that they’d taken on since talking to a lawyer. Now Ricky was free to do whatever he pleased again, the law aspect of it all being done and over with.

The Winifreds weren’t that happy at their sudden relocation, but Ricky was more than happy to provide them with some more… _lethal_ motivation. Nothing that would put him on a radar or anything, just a little nudge in the right direction, _away from him._

“Ricky?!” she questioned a little louder, noticing that the balcony doors were open. The house was nothing extremely flashy, but it was still quite large. Two floors, courtyard and stables, it was almost like the ranches that they’d ‘swung by’ in Texas almost a year and a half ago.

She clutched the envelope that had arrived earlier that afternoon tighter as she stepped on the balcony, only to see Ricky dressed down to jeans and one of his less flashy shirts. _At least he’s dressed,_ she thought. He sat on a chair, staring at the sunset with a still smoking cigarette in his fingers. An empty bottle of expensive whiskey lay on a table next to him.

“Ricky,” Fran sighed, “We’ve been looking for you.”

“Well you know where I’ve been this whole time, so I wouldn’t call it ‘looking’,” Ricky quipped back, clearly either battling a hangover or some form of negative side effect to being a drunk recluse for the past week.

“Well, you just haven’t come out in an awfully long time. Mia and I were starting to get worried. Now that you have a place of your own, well, let's just say that Mayor not returning with the cash yet has stretched our funds for other things a little tight,” Fran explained, “And we have a letter for you.”

“Who’s it from?” Ricky sighed, “I would have expected you to take the rookies out for a little bit of practice if our funding is low.”

“Mia and I don’t want to infringe on your leadership here, okay? You’ve just waited for this for so long, I don’t understand why you’ve just wanted to get drunk and sulk every day since you achieved it,” Fran sharply replied, “And nobody knows who the letter is from. There’s no return address, and surprisingly not even a stamp. It looks like it was hand delivered.”

A spark of hope resounded in Ricky’s face, but was quickly dampened by what Francesca knew to be realization, “Hand the envelope over.”

He tore into the letter quickly after Francesca handed the small envelope over. It was filled with a single sheet of paper, thickly folded over an object.

-

Ricky quickly perused the letter for a signature, his hopes further dampened by the lack of ‘CC Tinsley’ at the end of the letter. He knew it was foolish, but he did feel a connection to the sheriff. He sighed and opened the rest of the folds open, a piece of metal shrapnel falling into his lap. It looked like remnants of a bullet, and a rather large one at that.

_Ricardo Goldsworth,_

_I knew that I could not suspect that you would play fair. I first ran across your hitman, or rather my assistant Margaret did, only about thirty minutes from our meeting. I wished to storm back and demand the ring back, but I knew that you were too smart for that. You skipped town the second after you woke up that sheriff, didn’t you? By the way, how is he? I’ve been wondering what your little crew has been up to without a real boss. My second encounter with your hitman was about halfway to catching my train, on a platform. He managed to get me in the shoulder, thanks to a lovely passerby that luckily managed to notice him before I did._

_Now, I’ll be fair to you. You did try your best, and the doctor doesn’t like my odds of being able to use that shoulder well again. My assistant Margaret passed away, and I would be dead too if it weren’t for Rebecca. That’s the piece of metal that they pulled out of me, impressive isn’t it? I’ll get to the point of this message, my paper is growing ever shorter and I haven’t even told you why I’m sending this._

_I have him. Your hitman. And if you want him back before I decide to splatter his crimson blood across the sand, I would recommend that you make it to San Diego as soon as you get this._

_Signed,_

_Dr. Francis Fear_

“Fuck,” Ricky exclaimed, flicking the remainder of his cigarette off the balcony, “Just one peice of bad news after the other, isn’t it?”

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” Fran carefully responded.

“They’ve got Mayor. I’m headed to San Diego in the morning, you’re in charge. There’s cash for groceries for a week and a half underneath my nightshirts, I’ll russel up something more with Mayor on my way back,” Ricky grunted, stretching out before walking back into the building.

“Well you said ‘one bad thing after another’, so what was the thing before that? Is it why you’ve been acting like a melancholic loner the past week?” Fran followed him almost like a concerned dog or cat, not wanting to give it a rest.

“If you must know, yes. But that’s all you’re getting.”

“No, Ricky,” she tried to protest while Ricky continued to walk around, “Ricky-“ again her cry went ignored. 

“Ricky!” she shouted this time, making sure to reach out and grab his wrist.

“What?!”

“You look like shit, haven’t come down for _any_ actual food all but _twice_ during the last week, and judging by the state of things you’ve lightened up on the booze but not nearly enough. I don’t even know how many cigarettes you’ve been through, it could be anywhere from a couple boxes to a dozen. This isn’t like you at all and it’s scaring me! You haven’t so much as said a word to me or Mia or any other human in your isolation. So I think we all deserve to know what the hell happened to you!” Fran was shouting by the middle of her declaration, “Where did all of your excitement go?! Where is Tricky Ricky?! Because without you there might as well be no Golden Hour gang. We need leadership if this is gonna work, and it’s not gonna be Mia, or Mayor, or even me. So you’re gonna sit. And you’re gonna talk. And then we’re going to get Mayor back.”

“Can I at least sleep? We’ll ride at dawn,” Ricky negotiated, “No, you’re right. This is my choice, I’m the leader. I’ll ride at dawn, and I’ll ride alone. It’s not healthy to ride with an untreated migraine, as you’ve told me in the past.”

“Only if you talk.”

“Well I can’t guarantee all the answers you want to know, but I’ll try my best as your ‘fearless leader’.”

“Just, what happened to you? That’s all any of us want to know. Why’d you go off to hide?” Fran questioned, her voice now gentle and concerned. The edge and aggression from earlier was gone, replaced by care.

“People, Fran. I don’t miss my dad, I miss Mayor, and I want that Sheriff back for whatever godforsaken reason. Fear’s being an asshat again and I want to personally place a bullet between his eyes.”

“You have the hots for him. It’s obvious that you liked him, sorry boss.”

“Yes, however, he just left me like an asshole. A formal goodbye, not really any sort of personality to it. I don’t want to go back,” Ricky sighed, “I offered him a part in my forever, he declined.”

“But?”

“What am I supposed to say to that? But I still want him back? But I still want to see him be the pillar of light even when surrounded by darkness? But I want him to be part of my paradise?” Ricky questioned, stepping into his bathroom with a set of the previous inhabitant’s pajamas (likely never worn once judging by the state of their closet in the first place).

“Yes, Ricky, all of those things. I bet if he were to walk into the room this instant you would spontaneously combust. Well you would try to fix your hair first, but then you might just catch aflame. And when he put you out, you would look at each other like y’all hung the stars in the sky for one another,” Fran lightly suggested, watching Ricky step out of the bathroom a moment later.

“I suppose you may have a point, but I will raise you this; he hates me Fran. I just know he does, after all I’ve done. I really am no better than the snakes I choose to wear on my back, am I?”

“Ricky, you weren’t the one who lashed out this time. You got bit, and you need to grab yourself some gauze and get up.”

“Well I’m headed to the beach anyway, am I not? Might as well take some time to decompress before the meeting. It’s only a half a hundred miles out from where we are right now,” Ricky sighed wistfully, “I miss the ocean.”

“You told us that you’ve only seen it once.”

“I have. It’s a hard sight to forget, the endless blue. The glassy waves that manage to so perfectly contrast the sky even though they seem to compete with the same color scheme. The cold water contrasting with the beaming rays of sun on top of you. The romance of a beach at sunset,” Ricky sighed, “I’ve never seen anything like it. Powerful enough to kill us all, but gentle and enjoyable.”

“You do really love the beach, don’t you?” Fran chuckled, “Maybe we should take the rookies with us and have a little bit of a break. A _healthy_ break.”

Ricky looked out the window, watching the remnants of another pretty dusky purple sunset disappear. The clouds were painted a pretty shade of pink and purple as the sky continued to fall around them.

“C’mon. How much convincing will it take? You know we haven’t been on an ‘official break’ in so long, right? It might be nice to not have to be ready in a moment’s notice. And it might make the desert more bearable if I know that there’s an ocean waiting for me at the end of it,” Fran smiled.

“I suppose you can come down, but just wait until the day after tomorrow. I don’t need you running into Fear until he’s getting shipped off to whatever carriage company will take him to Texas or wherever with a rail line all the way back East.

“Really?” Francesca exclaimed, face suddenly lighting up with more than just excitement, “I have an idea.”

“Will I hate it marginally less than most of your ideas?”

“Well…” Fran hesitated.

“Then no. Do not go through with the operation,” Ricky firmly stated.

If it was possible for someone to consume the line between lying and telling the truth, then paint over it all with a new color to confuse everyone involved, it would be Fran. Her eyes sparked with earnesty as she nodded, but Ricky somehow knew that it was a half and half chance that she would go through with it anyhow.

“If you do it, just know that there will be consequences when I hate it,” Ricky waved her off, “Now I’ve got to sleep whatever’s left of my hangover.”

Fran left the room with a slightly dejected look in her eyes, sad but with hope in her spirits still. Ricky decided that he would have to leave earlier than expected to avoid her demanding that he take someone along with him. He could make an apology, for god’s sake. It was a day and a half ride out, not too horrible for a single person.

His head hit the pillows, but with a sigh he realized that he wasn’t able to sleep. His muscles went slack, everything melting into the mattress and comforter. However his eyes would not close. His brain wouldn’t stop thinking. He tried what felt like every sleeping position in the book, well what he was normally most comfortable sleeping in.

Honestly, this life felt perfect, but with the same definition of perfect as an unfinished puzzle. Springtime without any flowers, a painting with one space left completely blank. Ricky’s life was a picture book, told by many vivid illustrations (and some language that was not so child friendly). But there were too many missing pages to this chapter for him to make sense of anything right now. He felt like a hero after their first attempt at a task failed, a villain after the hero had defeated then for the first time, and what could possibly be the last. Any breath he took could be his last, technically.

He did try not to focus on that, but living each day as if it were your last seemed silly to even him some days. One day, it would be his last day, and not because god willed it to be so. It could be the will of anyone, really. A bounty hunter, someone looking for conflict, _CC Tinsley._ Ricky quickly shook that last thought off, squeezing his prickly eyes shut. 

He sighed loudly, sitting up and shoving whatever blankets were on him off. The balcony doors were soon opened to the inky night sky. He didn’t even realize how many hours he had spent laying there, but a check to the watch he’d nabbed off the desk displayed that the time was well past two in the morning. Ricky looked at the stars, tracing the meaningless lines lazily with his eyes, trying desperately to find some of the patterns Tinsley had pointed out so effortlessly.

_Draco and- Hark? No, that definitely wasn’t right._ He tried a few more times to remember what Tinsley had told him, tried to call back the memories of what felt like years ago. The night felt like the surface of the ocean that he was trying so hard to swim back up to. He didn’t know if he could breathe oxygen anymore, but anything to be able to relive those memories while standing alone on that balcony.

The ghost of touch against his back, a slight breeze against his temple. A gentle voice telling him something that made him feel warm, fuzzy, safe. Like his mother telling him a fairytale, or singing him to sleep. He was allowed to feel the sunshine for a moment, the memory touching his skin like a warm beam of heat radiating from a fire before the night consumed him again.

Ricky remembered the warning of Francesca when a cigarette tempted him just a little bit too much for his comfort. He settled for just getting dressed instead, throwing on his adventure outfit that had been hastily folded in the closet. His other few outfits were messily stuffed into a bag, followed by some of his other travel essentials, then he wandered downstairs, making sure that his boots stayed quiet and clear of creaky floorboards that he was certain he remembered made noise. There was just a little bit of trial and error with certain planks, but he made it to the kitchen without a singular person waking from however light of a sleep they had fallen into. Because years out in the desert night taught you to be a heavy sleeper, though surprisingly light sleepers in certain circumstances. None of them wanted to die, really. And sometimes watches could be… messy.

He raided what was left of the pantry, which wasn’t much (an astute observation made by Fran earlier that day) and left the money he had promised on the counter, but only three quarters of it. And a note, warning them not to follow him or they would be receiving even less than the punishment 4% of the profit of whatever crime he had chosen to commit on his way over (or back, he wasn’t quite sure yet.

Jam, some extremely stale crackers, and dried fruit was what Ricky eventually chose to hit the road with, as well as his normal adventure bag that went inside Aries’ saddlebag.

He hoped nobody heard him open the door to the barn, set up his saddle and layer the gear onto Aries piece by piece. The horse seemed mainly unbothered by being woken up, likely because it had been taking a break for the last couple weeks, only going out on bare minimum with the extras who technically didn’t even gain permission to touch his horse at all. But Ricky would forgive them, as he had not even the mildest interest in riding the last couple weeks, much less go on another criminal crusade.

He mounted up and off he rode into the night.

-

“Tinsley, we got another deal for you in the station. Holly got in another fight, the kid who wanted me to get you told me that there were about to be guns involved, so I’d hurry,” Banjo hummed, their rhythm already right back to normal.

Tinsley had stopped by some other towns on his way back, just momentarily for a meal or a good place to sleep. It was also a good way to check in on how things had gone while he was indiscreetly disposed with his own business. Most of the towns wouldn’t notice if he went missing for months on end unless something happened and they needed a law enforcement officer and their letter could not reach him at the building.

Tinsley bookmarked his journal, setting down his pencil and walking out the door quickly. Achilles was already saddled from another item of business a couple hours ago.

Night waved at him in the streets as he rode by quickly. It seemed like in the week that he’d been back everyone had just chosen to forget that Tinsley had been gone for the last half a month. He did suppose that it would be convenient for them to do so, there would be no talking about it on either end. Tinsley tried to avoid the topic when he came back as well, not really wanting to recount his _experience_ to people he considered friends, nearly family.

Not that all of it was bad, just not something he wished to remember. Not something that he would torture himself with remembering.

He couldn’t regret what he did. It had to be done, before one of them ended up between a rock and a hard place. Before things got a lot more painful than they were, _before he had to_ \- _No. He would not think about the alternative to letting Ricky go._ Thinking about Ricky only made him sad anyways, took away his focus from the job. And he did need to focus when talking down drunks with a penchant to grab guns and knives. He needed to focus when filling out reports and records, when checking in on people in the streets. It wasn’t just this county’s job to survive, Tinsley wanted to see its inhabitants thriving.

When you know so many people who leave their whole lives to go West, you have to want them to find that new start, a better start, in Tinsley’s eyes. He only wanted the best for the people he knew, the people he met. Ricky included. He hadn’t heard of any activity from the criminal side of things on Ricky, not from law enforcement or their sketchier lines of communication.

_That was a good thing, right? Not hearing from him at all has bound to be a sign of him moving on. He’s moved on. He’s happy._

Maybe that was wrong, but that’s what the protector of southern California thought at the moment. That’s what he wanted to think. The truth was banished from his mind the second he thought about it, same with any sort of thoughts to send Ricky an apology, to send him a letter, or a small condolence. Tinsley wrote any time he felt like that into his journal, sometimes even the little cheesy thoughts that rotted his brain as he tried to fall asleep, or drag himself out of bed in the mornings.

How nice it was to have someone to keep the bed warm, someone to keep close in those times of privacy and hold in times of trouble. But Ricky could not be that person for Tinsley. _Right?_

There hadn’t been much travel in town either, nor mail. That’s why, he realized, Holly and the replacement they sent down were fighting. They sent down another woman, surprisingly enough. Holly still offered her services, and this new woman, Claire, only accepted when she had lost the argument.

But their arguments never escalated to weapons being drawn before, and Banjo would have definitely included that in his recounting of the events if it had happened. He quickly dismounted his horse, hearing mild shouting from inside the building. Not as bad as their usual fights, Tinsley noted.

It also seemed that the yelling wasn’t entirely negative, more… cheery. He opened the door still, hand on his holster in case anything went wrong.

“Well Tinsley, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Claire drawled in a thick southern accent. Her husband had been killed in the Civil War, but that never deterred her smile and good home cooking from making its way into every home in town.

“Nothing, I suppose I’ll just write it down as a noise complaint. A kid was walking by and thought that you two were fighting. I suppose the fact that you have that massive meat cleaver in your hand and Ms. Horsley has a loaded rifle on the table didn’t help for your case either,” Tinsley explained, turning on his heel, “I’ll see you ladies some other time, apologies for bothering you.”

Claire ran up behind him and grabbed his wrist, “No! You’ve gotta tell me which pie I baked is better. I tried my recipe, then my mother in law’s recipe because she sent it to me in the mail and I thought it was a little strange that-“

“Miller, rambling,” Holly chuckled, wiping down a knife on another rag.

“Oh, sorry Tinsley. I tend to do that a little more than I should. Will you try the apple pies I baked earlier today?” Claire flushed, ‘politely’ asking this time.

“No, no need to apologize. I can only have a little bite, though,” Tinsley smiled, now noticing the smell of cinnamon as she brought over two pie dishes.

“I’ll take what you can’t eat,” Holly eagerly mumbled as she watched Claire serve up the pie.

“Thank you.”

He took a fork from Claire and scooped up a bite of one pie, then the other, “The first pie has too much nutmeg. But the second pie needs more time in the oven, in my opinion.”

“That’s what I thought, damnit! Thank you Tinsley, now I’m sure you have lots of things to do, sorry to hold you up!” Claire hastily apologized, now shooing Tinsley out of her house.

“Sorry?”

The door was closed on him and he walked towards Achilles shaking out some of the tenseness that he felt walking into what could have been a bad situation, to put it at the very least.

“Legs and Night think we should have drinks with them again, to celebrate Bella being able to take a wagon train over with her family. I’m a little worried about her because she won’t be able to talk as often, but what do you think?” Banjo eagerly asked the second he returned to the station.

“Congratulations, I did not know that Bella was making her way over. We well make sure to have a welcome party when her family moves in, wherever it may be,” Tinsley hummed, “And no, I sadly won’t be able to join you. Paperwork and all that.”

“You’re no fun,” Banjo waved, “I’ll be back, but you’re welcome to join in late.”

“Yeah,” Tinsley nodded, going to work on some reports.

_Paperwork._ Paperwork. He sat and looked at the papers for an hour. Why did he even try to lie to _himself_ anymore? Maybe getting drunk would help. Maybe it would erase what he wanted to forget permanently.

_Maybe_ , he thought, as he grabbed his coat.

-

Ricky made the journey by himself relatively easy, nothing too tedious. There were no signs of his trail being followed as he made his way to the coast, the night sky as bright as possible every time he tried to lay down and sleep. Sometimes it was the owls that sang him to sleep, sometimes it was his mother. He even thought of what it would have been like for Tinsley to read him to sleep, though he could only remember a couple longer bedtime stories.

The salt of the coast hit his nose as he saw beaches past the streets of San Diego. He’d been wandering around town for a little while, trying to spot where a ‘classy’ creep like Fear would be staying, especially with the rather large sum of cash he had been rewarded with, as well as his life.

The doctor, Ricky settled, was a good place to start. He did say something about a doctor in his last letter, he’s bound to have seen another when he got into San Diego. So Ricky spent a solid half a day looking around for doctors both publicly announced and privately practicing.

Eventually, a random passerby named Ruby on the street led him to an, ehem, _private practice,_ Dr. M. From there, a simple death threat led him to a little bit of a classier hotel with an amazing view of the coast, the light blue fading to a sparkling dark blue.

_It hasn’t gotten any duller since the day I left,_ Ricky remembered wistfully. How he would have loved to have Tinsley by his side to relish in the heat slightly cooled by the large ocean just a few miles away from where he stood.

He trotted into the hotel, hands on his pistols in anticipation for a surprise attack. It didn’t come as he approached the desk, having to take his hands off his belt. He’d dropped Aries by a nice stable once he got the location of the hotel, though he did get a couple weird stares throughout the town.

“Hello traveler! Welcome to the Cerulean Hotel, how may I help you today?” a lovely, rosy cheeked blonde asked.

“Good afternoon, I’m looking for a colleague of mine… I didn’t catch your name,” Ricky smiled, observing the lobby as well as the woman’s green eyes. He caught a flash of silver on her left hand, and chose to store that for later.

“The name’s Patience, who’s your colleague? I’m afraid I can’t give you their room name, but I can leave a message!” Patience explained, already getting out the logbook.

“Francis Fear, though he might have also gone by the name ‘John James’. He’s never been good at making up an identity, so he always uses the same one,” Ricky chuckled, watching Patience search row after row, “That’s a nice ring you have, you got a husband at home?”

“Yes, it’s me, my husband and our two children,” Patience smiled.

“What’re their names?”

Another voice chimed from behind Ricky, as two stronger sets of arms captured his own limbs to prevent him from reaching a weapon, “Annie and William, if you must know. I’m glad you were able to make it, Ricardo. Though you are a couple hours off, did you sleep in?”

“Oh, glad you were able to find each other!” Patience smiled, “I’ve got to go take care of an issue in room 14, but you guys are welcome to the lobby.”

She quickly made her escape, though she didn’t know it was an escape at the moment. Ricky, on the other hand, had one thought with his arms entrapped by two tall, muscular, and stupid men.

_Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I really hope you’re enjoying this. I’m enjoying it, ideas are just not coming as quickly to round out my plot holes that I didn’t notice when planning it. Please drop a kudos or comment if you enjoyed, and as always make sure to tune in next time!


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